


The Gauntlet: A Trip Through MEMEmentos

by Cardinal_Kiril



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Depression, F/M, Humor, I promise you, It's not as disgusting as the summary makes it seem, Jealousy, Memes, Romance, Sexual Tension, You Know I Had To Do It To Em, blue humor, give it a chance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Kiril/pseuds/Cardinal_Kiril
Summary: Akira, Morgana, Ryuji, and Yusuke are pathetic, chronically masturbating virgins. After exploring a deadly, uncharted part of Mementos, they discover a modern day god, LuckyLuciano17k, who forces them to partake in No Nut November. Should they go an entire month without wacking it, they will become gods. But if they give in, their wieners are forfeit. Can they make it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sup. My name is Cardinal Kiril. This is my first ever fanfic, but I've had this idea floating around for a while now, and finally got it on paper. Please note, this fic is rated M for a reason, in case the description made you think otherwise. There is a lot of fucked up shit here, so be warned.
> 
> Also, I changed the title and description from how they originally were, deciding that they were a bit too pretentious and straight-faced for the story at hand. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. I can't promise how often I will update, but there's a good chance I might update this with a new chapter or two.
> 
> Anyway, here's the fic. Enjoy!

Akira Kurusu accepted how pathetic he was a long, long time ago.

He was also far past the point of caring.

* * *

Within the dusty, unlit, cobwebbed attic of Café Leblanc, Akira Kurusu laid on his bed. The harsh, vibrant light from his phone in his right hand stung his veiny, bloodshot eyes as they bounced around in their sockets, trying desperately to focus on the image before them. Staring at the super-high brightness of the screen in the almost completely dark room was as painful as looking directly at the sun, and the fact that the phone was only three inches away from his face didn't help matters either. Focusing was already hard enough without the screen practically making him go blind: for some reason, his stupid hand wouldn't stop shaking. He had to squeeze the phone like a vice just to make sure that the damn thing wouldn't suddenly slip out of his fingers and land on the dirty, unvacuumed ground, and if he had to stop everything he was doing just to bend over and pick it back up he knew that we would have to start all over again. His headache was already bad enough, and if he had to start from square one he was sure it would evolve into a full-blown migraine.

As hard as Akira squeezed his phone, it was nothing compared to how hard he was squeezing his little chub. There was once a time where Akira could get harder than reinforced steel just by having a fan gently blow cool air onto his tiny, prepubescent dick. Those days were long past.

_Fifth grade was a fun time_ , he thought. His father once told him that life only gets more difficult as you get older, and now, as he reminisced about the good ol' days where he practically came every time the neighborhood bully randomly nut checked him on the playground ( _That guy had issues_ ), and compared them to the present, how he had to suffocate the ever-loving shit out of his poor, abused cock just to barely get it to a half-chub, he realized that there was no going back. This was his life now, and this will probably be how he will live for the rest of it.

Akira would normally feel a little depressed at this thought, had he not been way too focused on masturbating to Makoto's Facebook photos.

Her profile was the worst fucking thing on the planet. The student council president barely ever posted anything, and when she did, it was usually some boring ass picture of an event she had to attend, oftentimes accompanied by a bunch of random people who were there too. There were a few photos of her at a beach wearing a bikini, which would normally make Akira cum instantaneously, but they were so low-rez that he could barely even tell the pixels of her left boob apart from the ones of her right. And yet, once in a blue moon, Makoto might,  _just might_ , post a cute picture of herself that one of her student council friends took. High resolution, good framing, some thought clearly put into the composition.

And she was smiling. Oh my God her smile.

Akira had spent so many hours of his life looking at this one photo that it was practically burned into his brain. It was amazing, mesmerizing, even. When interacting with Makoto (or any girl, really), he kept his gazes and admiration of her body on the absolute minimum. During those long nights when she would help him study for a big test, or when they would go see an action movie at the theater, or, hell, even just hanging back at the student council room after school hours and just  _talking_  to her, Akira tried his best to keep his eyes on hers, averting them from her magnetic hips or long, slender legs. His efforts were enough,  _just enough_ , to help him get through the day without melting into a horny puddle. But nothing, absolutely nothing could ever prepare him for those little moments, those precious few seconds when her eyes would meet his, and she would give him the warmest, most genuine smiles he had ever seen.  _That_  had nothing to do with his dick. It made his already frantic heart pound against his chest like a pissed off monkey in a cage, desperately attempting to escape. The photo on his phone, in his hands, was nothing compared to the real thing. But goddamn, it was as close as he could get right now. The gentle, wonderful curl on her soft, perfect lips were immaculately replicated right before his eyes, her gaze doing that damn  _thing_  that always made his head feel light and his legs like spaghetti, everything about her was so perfect, everything he could ever have wanted was right-

It was a FAT nut. Or, at least it would have been had Akira not already came five times beforehand on this day alone. A tiny driblet of white splooge dripped out of his dick and down his shaft, but this meager amount was exceeded by the convulsions of his penis-muscles. It felt good, but it was a pleasure mixed with pain, his poor nutsack feeling like somebody squeezed it really hard. And, like every sixth orgasm of the day he's ever had, it was really short. Too short to even be worth it.

He looked at the picture. Still there. Still smiling.

He closed the app in shame.

* * *

**Ann:** _Hey! Just got on the train, be there soon!_

**Haru:** _I'm already here. I'll be waiting around the flower shop until then._

**Makoto:**   _Futaba and I have already left the train, walking there now._

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

This wasn't the first time Akira seriously lost track of time during a sesh (that's what he called it), but today was especially bad. He checked the time. 5:50 PM, a mere 10 minutes before he was scheduled to meet his friends at the train station and explore Mementos. Even if he jumped right out the window, ran at top speed to the train, and arrived at Shibuya without delay, he would still be almost 15 minutes late.

The boy sighed as he unlocked his phone.

**Akira:**   _Gonna be like 30 minutes late._

**Futaba:** _WHAT? You're the one who scheduled the meeting and you're the one who's late?_

**Ann:** _Are you serious? This is like the third time in a row._

**Akira:** _I can't find Morgana anywhere._

**Ann:**   _Uh huh, sure. That's the same excuse you used last time_.

**Makoto:** _It's fine. When the other guys get here we can just train in the first floor of Mementos while we wait for you two. Please be more punctual in the future, leader, especially when you are the one who called us for a meeting in the first place._

That stung. He stuffed the phone in his pocket without replying. His headache hadn't gotten any better, and the last thing he needed was to get roasted by those harpies.

"Morgana! Where are you, we gotta go," Akira shouted. He was met with silence. He sighed again and walked over to the attic's window, struggling to lift it open all the way.

His text was a lie. He knew exactly where Morgana was and what he was doing, but it served as a useful excuse. Usually.

Everybody has their own thing. This was a simple fact of life that Akira learned long ago, when he accidentally walked in on the neighborhood bully smacking his Coke-can sized wiener against a tuning fork while in the school bathroom ( _That dude seriously had issues_ ). Akira rarely judged people or their little quirks, knowing fully well that, for all he knew, he was just as fucked up as anybody else on the planet when the doors were locked and the porn was up. So, as Akira stuck his head out the window and gazed into the dark alleyway before him, he didn't even blink when he saw his cat friend sprawled on the ground, covered in his own cat-jizz. Morgana laid next to an old pothole, still moist with months' worth of supply, a pothole that the horny cat often referred to as his "Number one cum dumpster."

No, Akira really was not surprised at all. In fact, at this point, he probably would have been more shocked if he saw Morgana doing something that  _didn't_  involve beating his feline phallus to Timbuktu.

"Hey, Morgana, c'mon, we're gonna be late," he said to the cat.

"Ohhh heyyyy Jokerrrr, wazzaap?" Morgana was practically cross-eyed and still coming down from the high, his little cat eyes barely managing to find Akira's head from the window. He closed his eyes in bliss. "Weeeeeeeee…"

"Damnit, dude, we're gonna be late. Clean your nut and let's go. I'm coming downstairs now." Despite his harsh tone, Akira really couldn't get mad at Morgana. Even though they were different species, they shared a lot in common, a fact that was made evident to Akira when he and his new roommate got into a bitter argument over who was allowed to whack it off in the attic on the day he moved in.

Akira checked his phone one last time before he left his room. A few messages were sent in the Phantom Thieves' groupchat without him even noticing.

**Yusuke:** _Unfortunately, I will have to be a little late too. I believe I should be there by the time Akira arrives._

**Futaba:**   _Oh come on Inari, you spend all of your time looking at people in the subway station anyway, what's your deal?_

**Yusuke:** _I apologize for any inconvenience. The muse struck me at the most inopportune time, and I simply had to translate my inspiration into art._

**Ryuji:** _Yo gna b late 2 trafc bad_

**Ann:** _Oh, come on! The four of us can't go in without backup, why are you guys always late?_

**Haru:** _I agree, I would appreciate it if you boys would show up on time, it's not very polite to be late like this_.

**Makoto:** _We will sit-down and have a discussion about this later. For now, just head to the station ASAP so we can explore Mementos before it gets too late._

**Ryuji:** _srry_

Akira smiled at this entire exchange. His boys would never let him down.

Akira exited LeBlanc and rounded the corner to the Yongen-Jaya train station. Hot on his heels, Morgana left the alleyway where his dark deeds were often done and hopped on Akira's back.

"Heh heh, sorry, Joker. Looks like I got a little carried away," Morgana said sheepishly. "We'll still have time to explore Mementos, right?"

"We should," Akira stated after checking his phone again. "I just wanted us to get some exercise in, we haven't done anything in the Metaverse for about a week."

Morgana's eyes suddenly widened. "Jesus, Akira. Again?" He pointed his paw to Akira's right hand, which was gently shaking. "That's, like, the third day in a row, what gives?"

Akira looked at his hand and tried to get it to stop shaking. This always happened to him after he masturbated four or more times in one day. He really had no idea why this happened, but it never really bothered him too much. Everyone has their own quirks, right? (This sentiment, of course, did not stop him from fantasizing about him going into Tae's office and raising his concerns to her, one of his favorite fantasies, in fact. "Hmmm, what's a strapping young man such as yourself doing masturbating so much, hm?" Tae hummed sensually as she uncrossed her sexy legs. "Maybe you need me to give you a little examination to see what's wrong," she breathed as she leaned over towards him, her cleavage in full view of his face. "I promise to be thorough, Kurusu-kun," she purred as her hand slowly travelled up from his knee, to his inner thigh, right before gently coming up and -)

"Joker! Hey, Akira, snap out of it!" Morgana kept smacking Akira's face with his paws, knocking him out of his stupor.

The boy shook his head violently. Somehow, through muscle memory, he managed to get on the Yongen train while in the middle of a spontaneous sex fantasy. Akira always found a new way to surprise himself. "Oh shit. Sorry, I really zoned out there for a sec."

"Yeah, you think? Were you thinking about Makoto again?"

"No. Well, I mean, I  _was_  a few minutes ago, but this time it was Tae."

"Mmmmmm sexy doctor lady." Morgana started drooling. "Why is bestiality such a taboo? Why do I have to suffer like this? All I want, all I EVER wanted, is to bust a nut in some babe. Oh God oh God oh God I NEED to become human, Joker, I need it!"

"Jesus, relax. Even if you end up becoming human you're most likely going to end up a virgin like me who spends all his time jerking off anyway. What makes you think you'll actually get laid?"

"Can it, dweeb!" Morgana shouted. "As soon as we get through Mementos, I'll get my sexy, six-foot-three-inch alpha male Chad bod back, and before you know it Lady Ann will-"

His eyes widened.

"Fuck, Joker, put me into your backpack."

"Oh HELL no!" Akira shouted. "I fell for that shit way too many times, I'm still cleaning your jizz out of my history textbook. You're just going to have to wait until we get home."

"Oooohhh but Lady Ann!" Morgana was violently humping Akira's backpack at this point. "She is SOOOO hot. Ohmigod her tits, ohmigod her ass, ohmigod her legs, ohmigod ohmigod ohmi-"

"That's enough!" Joker smacked the back of the cat's head. "You SERIOUSLY need to calm down. Do you think she doesn't notice your fuzzy cat boners every time you see her wearing her Metaverse suit? The only reason she hasn't filed a restraining order on your creepy ass is because you're just a cat and doesn't feel threatened by you."

"Damn, Joker," Morgana sighed sadly as he let his ears down. "Why you gotta roast me so hard all the time?"

"Do you see me acting like that around Makoto? And, I mean, this is MAKOTO we're talking about, too. Like, Ann is really hot, I get it, but Makoto is like a fucking goddess, but I still manage to have self-control, unlike your horny ass."

"Yeah, uh huh, sure." Morgana smiled deviously, realizing that he just found some ammunition against the bespeckled cuck before him. "And how many 'quick trips to the bathroom' do you take every time you spend more than 15 minutes with her? She's a smart gal who knows perfectly well how hot she is, do you really think she just thinks that you have a weak bladder?"

Morgana's words made Akira wince. That exact thought had been haunting him for months. "T-that is completely untrue and you are really stupid."

"Pssht, ok cuck." Morgana stretched himself out and yawned loudly on Akira's lap. "I can tell Makoto's the kind of girl who likes her men a little less…" He thought for a second before finishing his sentence. "Pathetic."

"Okay, that's it!"

Ripping his backpack open, Akira grabbed Morgana by the neck and flung him in, zipping it back up and then shaking it violently.

"Ow! Ow! Fuck, ow!"

"Fucking bane of my existence…" Akira grumbled to himself. After a few more good shakes, he let the backpack rest on his lap, sparing his annoying friend a puke session.

The train to Shibuya station arrived earlier than he expected. Stepping out of the train, he immediately began scanning the crowd for his friends. Before he could get a really good look, his eyes spotted the door to the public male bathroom opening, and a tall, lithe, familiar figure stepped out.

As Akira approached him, he noticed that something was off about Yusuke Kitagawa. His normally elegant friend bore an uncharacteristic slouch, and his steps were weak, unsure, as if he spent the last hour squatting heavy weights ( _I'd love to see that hungry skeleton squat anything, his little lady legs would break like toothpicks_ , Akira snickered to himself).

"Hey, Yusuke, what's up?"

Akira could barely finish his sentence before the artist jumped back in surprise and spun around, facing his fellow phantom thief.

"What! What!" Now that Akira could actually see his face, he could definitely tell that something was wrong. Yusuke's already gaunt features were intensified, his eyes were bloodshot, heavy bags drooping below them. His pale skin was even paler than it normally was, it was clear to Akira that Yusuke hadn't spent any time outside at all today.

"Oh, Akira-kun, it's you." Yusuke breathily heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead. He let out a deep sigh. "My apologies, you merely startled me."

"Uh… huh. You okay there buddy?"

"Yes, of course I am! Why? Do I appear to not be alright? What are you implying, leader? Because if you have something to say then you should just say it!" Yusuke's face was inches from Akira's at this point.

_This guy is the definition of sketch_.

Akira calmly placed his hands on the hyperventilating youth's shoulders. "Yusuke. What were you doing in the public bathroom?"

Yusuke's eyes shot open. After five agonizingly awkward seconds of silence, he bowed his head in shame.

"I… I told you all that the muse struck me."

"Jesus!"

"And I needed to convert my inspiration into art…"

"Fuck!"

"But Akira-kun!" Yusuke's dilapidated appearance gave way to a look of determination. "Masturbation is an art in and of itself! The Dutch Masters did it several times a day as a form of meditation. Who am I to denounce their methods?"

"Yusuke. You jacked off in a fucking subway bathroom."

"OKAY!" Akira jumped back a little at this outburst. Yusuke never raised his voice, at least not to him. "I ADMIT IT! I JACKED OFF IN THE SUBWAY BATHROOM. And you know what?" Yusuke grabbed Akira by his collar, his scrawny little arms holding a surprising amount of strength. His face was an inch away from Akira's. "It was the fattest, the FATTEST, nut, I have ever had in my entire life."

It was Akira's turn to sweat now.

"R-really?"

"Well, not exactly." Yusuke let up on his creep. "I should say that THEY were the fattest NUTS (plural), I have ever had in my entire life. But, semantics semantics."

"Holy shit, dude. Look, not even considering the bullshit you said about the Dutch Masters whacking themselves off, I'm sure that jerking off is an important part of the artistic process. But goddamn, why in the subway bathroom? Couldn't you have just gone home? How the hell could you do it MULTIPLE times? Just… just how?"

Yusuke did one of those exasperated sighs that people only do when trying to explain basic concepts to stupid people. "Because, Akira, as I have said twice already, the muse struck me, and I wished to convert my inspiration into art."

"And by 'art,' you mean a masturbation sesh in a public bathroom."

"Yes."

Akira's head still hurt.

"Okay, fine, I get it. But I don't understand what you mean by a 'muse,' did you just randomly see some ho walking around the station and you got so hard that you had to cum right then and there?"

"Essentially, yes. But she is not just 'some ho,' Akira." Yusuke looked beyond Akira, staring into nothing, deep in thought. "Her name is Ayoto. She is in one of my art classes. And she has to be one of the thickest thots I have ever laid eyes on. I always see her wearing our school's uniform. But this was the first time I saw her outside of class. This was the first time I saw her… wearing shorts." The young artist released a small shiver and began sucking on his lip. "Those… hips. Those… thighs. That. Ass." Sweat dribbled from his forehead again at full force. His arms began to shiver, his eyes became desperate and wide. His mind was racing. Images of Ayoto-chan's thunder thighs slamming Yusuke's tiny, malnourished pelvis into oblivion as she cowgirled him into submission invaded his thoughts. "I… I need to use the bathroom."

Yusuke quickly turned around and was about to sprint at the speed of light back into the bathroom, but Akira grabbed his shoulder, spun him around until they were face to face, and smacked his cheek with his palm.

"STOP. You horny motherfucker stop. We are already late to our meeting. If we dawdle any longer the girls are going to castrate us. Please, keep it in your pants until you get home so we can just focus on the task at hand, okay?"

Yusuke was tentative, but he nodded eventually. "You… you're right as always, Joker. Please, forgive me."

Akira smiled and shook his head. Everybody had their quirks.

* * *

Walking to their usual creep at the underground passageway, Akira and Yusuke found the girls sitting around and chatting.

"There you are!" Ann broke her conversation with Futaba and looked up at the two boys. "What took you guys so long? It's almost 7, we were supposed to be in Mementos about an hour ago."

Akira rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, Ann. Cat trouble."

"Wait a second." Haru got up from her seat and looked around. "Where  _is_  Mona-chan?" Akira mentally kicked himself for forgetting about his friend. Setting his backpack on the ground, he quickly unzipped it, allowing Morgana to hop out.

"Mona-chan!" Haru picked up Morgana and gave him a great big hug, pressing the little cat against her chest. "Did mean-old Akira keep you all zipped up in his backpack? You poor thing!"

"It's fine, Haru, he was only there for a few minutes," Akira protested. "He survived."

"You be quiet!" Haru scolded. "I bet Mona-chan was doing his best to get you to actually arrive on time, and you probably just ignored him. Isn't that right?" Haru playfully nuzzled her nose against the cat's before returning him to her chest. "Poor baby!"

Morgana, for his part, said nothing. His furry face was pressed right up against Haru's rack, the softness making his eyes roll to the back of his head. "Weeeeeeeeee…." He moaned.

Absolutely everything about this scene made Akira extremely uncomfortable. Just as he was about to zip his backpack up again, he noticed something odd within its confines. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he opened the bag a bit more, allowing the light to reveal a big puddle of cat-cum getting soaked-up by his calculus homework. His mouth was agape as he stared at what was before him, not sure if he should just zip his backpack back up before anybody noticed, or grab the feline fucker by the tail and fling him off a cliff.

He looked up at Morgana, whose face was still smothered against Haru's tits, but he managed to turn his head, look Akira dead in the eyes, and give him the smuggest look a cat could possibly give.

_That little bastard_ , Akira thought,  _came on my shit, and as a reward, he got to feel Haru's luscious boobs pressed up against his face._ Any anger he once felt immediately melted into deep sadness and shame. There was nothing the poor boy could do except take this big, fat L and hope that he doesn't kill himself by the time he gets home tonight. Hell, maybe he'll have time for one quick last wank before he offed himself.

_Everybody has their own little quirks_ , he reminded myself.  _My quirk is getting owned by a talking sex-addict cat._

* * *

Makoto was very frustrated. She woke up this morning with a splitting headache, having spent all last night getting student council work done and going to cram school. Her sister was nowhere to be seen, which meant that she was probably somewhere at work trying to forge evidence to get some poor asshole in jail.

She spent a little too long in the shower, forcing her to skip breakfast and get on the train immediately so she could get to school on time. Her hopes of getting a snack at the vending machine before class started were dashed as soon as she walked up the stairs to Shujin Academy: her homeroom teacher immediately grabbed her and told her to help him grade essays for a different class he had to teach. She had half a mind to tell the fat bastard to go fuck himself, but, as usual, her good-girl-model-student persona immediately took over any impulsive thoughts she might have had and she submissively complied to his not-so-gentle request.

To make matters worse, that creepy guy from her biology class was there to help grade papers, too, and he made low moaning sounds throughout. She could practically feel his slimy, yellow eyes move up and down on her legs, his tongue smacking his fat, crusty, greasy lips. Makoto had heard rumors that this guy fucked every girl in the cheerleading team and had a huge, anaconda schlong that he was more than happy to unleash on any poor woman that caught his eye. The very thought of that made her shudder; imagining his pimply, swollen face going anywhere near hers made her want to vomit.

After a few more minutes of trying (unsuccessfully) to grade papers while this guy kept his moaning game up, Makoto suddenly turned around in her seat to face him, which caught the bulbous booger-factory by surprise.

"Taro-kun," she ordered, in her typical Student Council President voice. " _Please_ , stop making those sounds, I am trying to concen-"

Her command was cut short as she took the guy in. There, by his groin, was the largest pants-tent Makoto had ever laid eyes on. At this point in her life, Makoto was generally used to this sort of thing. Guys had been popping boners around her since she was in middle school, and it was a rare occasion when a guy in her class didn't imagine fucking the ever-loving daylights out of her. She hated it; she hated being stared at, she hated being objectified, she hated having to deal with horny douchebags constantly hitting on her. It didn't help that Makoto was already extremely self-conscious as-is. Boys never talked to her unless they wanted something from her, and that something was always sex. Whenever she refused, or made it  _very_  clear that she was not interested, her reputation as a "stone cold bitch" or a "prude" intensified, adding negative energy to her already poor self-esteem. They didn't see her as a person. They saw her as a  _thing_ , a hole for them to use and forget about the next day. It disgusted her, it made her want to cry, it made her sick to her stomach and hate herself. Most of all, it made her feel powerless. It made her feel weak and useless.

_Useless_.

Her sister's words rang in her ears.

_Useless._

Becoming a Phantom Thief, meeting genuine friends who understood her, finally taking agency in her life and discovering her calling: none of these things stopped that feeling.

_Useless_.

_Why am I so useless?_

Makoto didn't realize where she was until she found herself hunched over the toilet, vomiting. This wasn't the first time this happened, but that didn't make her feel any better about herself. Makoto hated how much power these people had over her life. Her teachers, the principal, the boys in her class who whispered dirty lies to each other whenever she passed by. How could Haru and Ann not feel like this all the time? She wondered to herself. Ann was exotic and gorgeous, the boys at school objectified her all the time. And those rumors about her and Kamoshida were no help to her psyche, Makoto was sure. And Haru was not only beautiful, but a minor celebrity to boot, simply because of her asshole father. She had to be aware of all those men that only saw her as a pair of tits and a huge bag of money, right? All those people who wanted to get it in with her just so that they could get a part in the Okumara wealth. Makoto secretly envied Futaba, despite her younger friend's crippling social anxiety. Her shut-in nature prevented her from experiencing this. While running around in her palace and fighting shadows, Makoto did her best to not pity Futaba, but it was really hard, especially when she learned about her mother's death and the psychological effects it had on her. But now… now Makoto wished she could just stay in her room and never come out.

After cleaning herself up, Makoto checked her phone one last time before the bell rang. This was her last hope, her shining light before her day was completely ruined.

**Makoto:**   _We are still on to explore Mementos at 6, correct?_

**Akira:** _Yep._

Makoto smiled at her phone, and let out a breath that she didn't even realize she was holding in. She was afraid that they would cancel at the last minute. She knew it was stupid, but going to Mementos today seemed almost too good to be true. Honestly, she loved exploring the Metaverse, more than she would care to admit. All of her anxieties, all of her insecurities, all the men and teachers and controlling influences in her life, they all disappeared when she donned her suit and beat shadows into oblivion. She felt most in her element when she was there, protecting the weak, changing evil peoples' hearts. It gave her a rush like nothing else. Finally, she felt like she was her own person. Finally, she felt like her life had meaning, that it had purpose. Had she not met Kurusu-kun and his friends, had she not stumbled upon the Metaverse and awakened her Persona, her life would have been… Makoto didn't want to think about it. After the absolute shit-show this morning had been, going to Mementos was the only thing that kept her from completely breaking down.

Halfway through the day, she got another message, this time sent directly to her.

**Futaba:**   _Wanna hang out_

Now  _this_  was not something she expected.

**Makoto:** _Sure! Class is over in about two hours and I don't have any student council work. If you want, I can go to LeBlanc right afterwards and we can go get something to eat before we meet with the others._

**Futaba:** _It's cool, I'll just go over to Shujin and meet you there._

**Makoto:** _Are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with._

**Futaba:** _I think I leveled up enough for this. See you_

Even with her palace destroyed, Makoto worried tremendously about her friend. In many ways, Futaba was an incredible young woman: smart, spunky, and talented with all things relating to technology. At the same time, her social anxiety was a huge issue for her well-being, and it was clearly more severe than anything Makoto ever had to deal with, self-conscious as she was. She loved the idea of being able to spend more time with her, getting to know her young friend outside of official Phantom Thieves business.

By the time the final bell rang and Makoto made her way to the school lobby, Futaba was already there, nonchalantly tapping away on her phone. Noticing Makoto's presence, Futaba immediately stood up and went over to her senior.

"Makoto!" Her face was beaming. "Thanks for agreeing to hang out with me."

"It's no problem, Futaba-chan. Where would you like to eat?"

"Hmm." Futaba began thinking, slowly sifting through all their nearby options. Makoto wished she would hurry up and decide: her stomach felt like there was a gigantic hole burning through it, and she needed at least  _something_  to keep her from going insane with hunger.

"How about… Big Bang Burger!"

Makoto sighed.  _Maybe I'm not that hungry after all._  The student council president was usually pretty strict with her diet, limiting herself to fresh vegetables, lean meats, and whole grains on a daily basis. Big Bang Burger was so  _greasy_. Something about the food there made her stomach feel like it was twisting into a knot. She regretted letting Futaba choose a place instead of simply taking initiative so that she wouldn't have to deal with this problem, but she knew that letting Futaba choose a place that made her comfortable in public was more important than her personal tastes. Besides, the young girl was already drooling at the thought of going there.

"Oooohhhh man, I could eat, like, three of those things right now," Futaba moaned.

Makoto forced a smile. "Sure thing, let's go." Mementos could not come soon enough.

* * *

Makoto eyed one of the trashcans at the underground station.

_Alright_ , she thought,  _if I end up puking again I'll know exactly where to go_.

Her head spun. That burger was disgusting, all the slimy meat and low-quality vegetables. She chastised herself for finishing all of it. She knew that it would make her feel bad later, but she was just so hungry that she had to do it.

Talking to Futaba made it more bearable, however. Futaba was shocked to learn that Makoto shared her passion for action movies, especially Yakuza stuff. Makoto smirked with a small sense of pride, recounting how impressed Futaba was with her deep knowledge of film trivia, listening in wonder as she rattled off all of the obscure flicks she'd seen over the years. In fact, by the time they exited the train and entered Shibuya station, the two girls were in the middle of an animated conversation about one of their all-time favorite movies, The Raid 2.

"…And when Rama was in the prison yard beating the shit out of everyone? I was screaming, I was so excited!" Futaba bounced up and down as she recounted some of the film's more memorable moments. "He was all like, HYAA, and WHATAAAH, he has to be one of my favorite action heroes ever."

"Did you notice that that entire fight was in a single take?" Makoto asked. She was able to forget her protesting stomach for a little while as she spoke. Nothing got her more excited than action films, they could make even the worst days just a little bit more bearable. "That movie utilizes a level of precision that I've never seen in any other film. God, remember when those thugs were fighting Rama in a diner, and he takes some guy's head slams it against a grill for fifteen seconds? I've never been more excited in a theater my entire life."

"God, remember Uco?" Futaba started blushing and clasped her hands together dreamily. "He was soooooo hot, oh my God."

Makoto blushed too. She hated to admit it, but she developed a crush on one of the film's characters after watching it for the first time. Her then-thirteen year old self kept having little daydreams of the young gangster heir sweeping her off of her feet and marrying her in some Jakartan mosque. She even started learning about Islam and what she would need to do to convert, in order to fit in with Uco's native Indonesia.  _I can't believe I thought about becoming a Muslim just to marry a fictional character_. She quickly put aside this embarrassing fact and returned to the conversation at hand. "He was really handsome."

"Heh, you probably wouldn't have any trouble getting him to come home with you, Mako-chan," Futaba teased.

Makoto jumped a little. "W-what do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Queen," Futaba rolled her eyes. "You're like, one of the most gorgeous women I've ever seen. I bet all kinds of guys at school are just dying to get it on with you." Makoto said nothing, but blushed even harder, making Futaba smile even more. "You doooo, don't you? I don't know how you have any time doing Phantom Thief stuff, I'd have thought you'd be spending all of your time wrapping boys around your little finger." Futaba giggled mischievously.

Makoto's blush intensified, but the happy, carefree feeling she felt while talking about movies was gone. Instead, her heart felt like it was sinking into the pit of her stomach. She remembered all the times she puked in the bathroom, which was usually followed by her crying silently in the stall. She remembered the first time it happened, during her first year at Shujin. She developed a schoolgirl crush on an older boy, her senpai by two years. She remembered how cool he was, with his slick, black, styled hair and long legs. She'd stare at him for hours, blushing at the thought of him noticing her. It was the first time she had ever liked a boy that way.

It was also the first time in her life where she actually started looking at herself in the mirror. Not just looking, but  _looking_. Feelings of insecurity creeped up on her, and she barely realized they were happening. She hated her oddly shaped body, she hated her small breasts, she hated her skinny legs. She would often steal one of those fashion magazines her sister lazily flipped through when she was bored, take them to her bathroom, and just stare at the gorgeous models there for what felt like hours at a time. She compared their perfect, symmetrical faces to her plain, unattractive one. She looked at their slim waists and shapely legs. Sometimes she would undress entirely, and just stare at the mirror, stare at her ugly, unshapely form, stare and point out every single one of her imperfections, before squatting down on the bathroom floor and crying.

Her strong sense of inadequacy haunted her even at school. She managed to focus in class and achieve perfect grades, but her mind often went back to those models, those goddesses that could have anything they wanted. It was a daily obsession that never left her, that only intensified when she thought about the third-year that she couldn't stop thinking about.

One day, he came to her. It was completely sudden, and without warning. Walking between classes, he stopped her with his voice.

"Hey, you're Niijima, right?"

Makoto's heart stopped beating. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. She stopped breathing.

"Y-yes?" she managed to say. Makoto was suddenly extremely conscious of her sweating hands. She had no idea where to put them or what they should be doing, and she fought the urge to play with her fingers nervously. "H-how can I help you, s-senpai?"

He leaned in a little towards her. Makoto was sure that she was going to pass out, but her mind was completely blank, not understanding a thing that was going on. "You're pretty cute. Look me up sometime, maybe we can bang."

And then he pinched her behind.

Not a single thought went through Makoto's mind. For a few seconds, everything just stopped right in its tracks. The boy had already walked past her. Even as she slowly turned around and saw him laughing with one of his friends and high-fiving him, her brain wasn't functioning.

She stood there, in the middle of the hallway. The bell rang, and next period classes had begun, but she just stood there. She stared at the ground. Her mouth was slightly agape, but she said nothing. Her once fidgety hands were now carelessly at her sides, hanging there lifelessly.

Eventually, she looked up. Eventually, she walked down the hallway, and entered the girls' bathroom. She went into a stall, quietly locked it, turned around, kneeled, and vomited into the toilet.

She spent the rest of the school day on the toilet, weeping.

"Futaba."

Makoto wasn't angry at all. Nobody really knew that this side of her existed, and she couldn't have expected the younger girl to know either. "Please, don't say that. It makes me uncomfortable."

The sudden shift in Makoto's turn must have had an effect on Futaba, because her eyes immediately widened at her friend's response. "Oh, uh, s-sorry, Queen. It was just a joke, I didn't mean to offend you."

Makoto chastised herself for making her friend feel uncomfortable. She forced a smile on her lips. "I-it's nothing, Futaba-chan. You didn't offend me!" She looked at her phone and found two new messages in the groupchat.

**Ann:** _Hey! Just got on the train, be there soon!_

**Haru:** _I'm already here. I'll be waiting around the flower shop until then._

Makoto quickly typed away her status into the GM. "Haru says that she's by the flower shop, let's go hang out with her while we wait for the others." Futaba agreed with her as they made their way downstairs. Before they could even reach the flower shop, however, another message came.

**Akira:**   _Gonna be like 30 minutes late._

"Really?!" Futaba looked very annoyed as she typed away on her phone. "I came out of my shelter just for this guy to be late for the third time in a row? He's the one who organized this, for Pete's sake."

Makoto frowned, trying her best to hide her annoyance. She also joined the conversation in the GM. "I really wish he were more punctual, this is beginning to get out of hand." Makoto wanted to squeeze every bit of time she could in Mementos. Even with Futaba's companionship, this day had been absolutely terrible. She needed something to help her destress, and soon.

As she said in her text, Haru was browsing the flowers on display at the underground mall. She smiled as she noticed her fellow Phantom Thieves.

"Mako-chan! Futaba-chan! How are you girls doing?"

"Heya, Haru," Futaba said. "Seeing anything you like?"

"Oh yes, these flowers are quite lovely." She picked up a flower pot containing a delicate-looking thing and gave it a gentle sniff. "Mm, remind me to pick this one up after we're done in Mementos."

The three girls chatted for a little while, until Ann showed up.

"Hey guys!" Ann bounded toward them. "What's up?"

"Hi, Ann," Makoto greeted. "I didn't expect you to be here so soon. Isn't your house's train station a little further away?"

"I wasn't at home." The blonde stretched and gave a tired yawn. "I had a quick modeling shoot after class today, the station was just one stop away from Shibuya."

Makoto pursed her lips and stared at some flower. She felt disgusted at herself for feeling this way, but she had always been jealous of Takamaki. It was ridiculous, and completely childish, and she wished she could just smack herself and make those thoughts go away, but she couldn't. It wasn't just that Ann was beautiful, but that did play a big factor. Ann was one of the most level-headed people she had ever met. Even with all those rumors regarding her and Kamoshida, Makoto knew that her friend just had her shit together. She was confident, resourceful, independent. She never let anybody boss her around, she always did what her heart felt was right, never having to be a puppet for somebody else's wishes. Those were all qualities Makoto felt she lacked and desperately needed.

All of those things, though, were not really at the heart of Makoto's jealousy. If anything, they only made her admire Ann and increased her drive to improve herself. No, at the center of it all, was the simple fact that Ann was a model. Makoto wanted to scream at herself for being so stupid. Those gorgeous women that Makoto stared at in the magazines, those women that Makoto constantly, unconsciously, compulsively compared herself to, those women that made her cry and made her hate her body: Ann was one of them, and Makoto was not.

She loved the blonde with all her heart, realizing what an amazing person she was soon after joining the Phantom Thieves. But every time she was in a room with Ann, those feelings of inadequacy that she tried extremely hard to bury kept coming back up, dominating her thought processes. She hated it,  _hated it_  whenever Ann mentioned one of her stupid modeling gigs. And she had no idea what was stirring in her heart, she was completely ignorant to how much frustration she caused her every time she talked about modeling. Makoto clenched her first as she stared at that flower.

_Calm. Down._

The girls, as usual, didn't notice anything. They talked amongst themselves for a bit before Ann let out a frustrated groan.

"Oh come  _on_!" Ann typed away at her phone. "Are we ever going to Mementos? Why are these guys always so late?"

Makoto checked her phone.

**Yusuke:** _Unfortunately, I will have to be a little late too. I believe I should be there by the time Akira arrives._

Makoto could hardly believe it. Her day just kept getting worse and worse. The rest of the girls were quick to grill the boys, and she calmly vented her frustration a little bit as she typed out a response.

_I NEED to kick something's ass_ , Makoto thought.

* * *

Makoto had an immense amount of respect for Akira Kurusu, aside from the fact that he could be a tardy jackass.

Makoto really couldn't place a definite finger on what exactly she thought about him. He was definitely an admirable person, risking his life many times to help those in need. He was caring, understanding, extremely good at helping people work out their problems, and had a knack for bringing the best out of people. Makoto couldn't understand why, but something about Akira just attracted good kinds of people towards him. He was also an incredibly capable leader. Upon joining the Thieves, Makoto was appointed second-in-command, and she prided herself in her ability to solve problems clearly and efficiently. But she had to admit, without Akira, the group would have perished long ago. He was the glue that kept them all together, he was the one who guided them through the palaces, he was the one who always had a plan up his sleeve.

But there was more to him than just his capabilities as a leader. Makoto had trouble describing it. Akira was… Akira was different. He looked at her… different. He talked to her… different. She kept comparing him to the boys at Shujin, the ones who always wanted something from her, the ones that fueled her insecurities, the ones that looked her up and down and catcalled her and made inappropriate remarks to her, the ones that made her feel like garbage, like a  _thing_. Akira just wasn't like that. He cared for her, not just as a teammate, but just as a  _person_. He wanted nothing from her, and expected nothing in return for his support. When she had a problem, she knew she could always sit down with him and just talk things out.

But there was still just something off about Akira. Despite her admiration of him, she hesitated calling him a close friend. True, they hung out a lot and she always enjoyed his company. But her hesitation stemmed more from how she believed he perceived her. Akira had this weird habit of keeping his face completely neutral around her at almost all times. He also had a hard time keeping eye contact with her, or even looking in her general direction, often averting his gaze somewhere else, as if he were mindful not to have her in his sights for too long. Sure, he would occasionally smile or frown, or do something to remind her that he wasn't a robot, but this was completely different from how he acted around his other friends, even girls. Akira came to life whenever he was talking to Yusuke or Ryuji, those two were clearly his besties. A spark in his eye lit up every time he played games with Futaba, or gardened with Haru, or ate crepes with Ann. Makoto could tell how much Akira enjoyed the company of his friends, how much he needed them to keep himself sane after a bout of traversing the Metaverse.

So why? Why was Makoto the odd one out? Was she too bossy? That couldn't be it, Akira constantly asked her for her advice during missions, and she learned to keep her thoughts to herself unless they were necessary. Was it… Was it just that he didn't like her? Did he only spend so much time with her out of necessity? This was a common thought that Makoto had, and as the days went by she started becoming more confident that it was the truth. She wanted Akira to like her, she really did. He was one of the few males in her life that she felt any connection with, and she really did not want to ruin it. Not that Yusuke, Ryuji, or Morgana were bad guys, far from it, in fact. They were polite, kind-hearted gentlemen just like Akira, and she was proud to call them her friends, although they each had their own little eccentric habits. But Akira…

Well, Akira was just different.

She watched him slowly zip the backpack back up from the ground, his face hidden behind his hair. Haru was petting Morgana on her lap now, and was done roasting Akira. Futaba almost immediately went over to Yusuke and commanded him to draw some character from an anime she saw last night, which he quickly obliged after he took out his sketchpad.

"Ann-chan, would you like to pet Mona-chan?" Haru asked kindly.

Morgana shot up on his legs. "Yeah, Lady Ann! I love it when you get the back of my ears!"

Ann giggled at the cat's innocent request. She reached over and gently scratched his ears. Morgana began to melt.

"Oooooh yeahhhh," the cat moaned. He quickly flopped himself on his back. "Now my belly! Do my belly!"

Ann looked apprehensive, but she fulfilled her friend's request, rubbing his stomach with her palm. His eyes rolled to the back of his head again. "Weeeeeeeee…"

Makoto gulped. This was her chance. She slowly walked over to Akira and tried to catch his attention. "Hello, Akira-kun."

The boy froze a little when he heard her voice. He turned around to face her, the glint in his glasses obscuring his eyes. "Hey Makoto-senpai. Sorry we were a little late. We'll do better next time, I promise."

She sighed. This was getting out of hand. The boys in their group were consistently late to these meetings. What on earth could keep them for so long? "Its fine, Akira. Please, just remember that when you schedule something, other people are waiting for their leader to come. Just try to be more responsible in the future, okay?"

"Okay," Akira said. He tilted his head to the side and looked over at some sign close by.

_Not this again_ , Makoto thought. She needed to figure this guy out. She didn't want to lose him, especially after everything that they've been through. More than anything else, she wanted to be sure that she could call him a friend.

"Hey, Akira?" He looked over to her. "I know we've been busy and all, but if you want, maybe this weekend we can catch a movie or something? There's some mafia flick playing at Shujin, and I remembered your favorite actor was in it. We could go see that if you want."

_Oh jeez_ , she thought,  _did I come off too strong? I don't want to creep him out._  She gave him a smile. "Unless you've got other things planned, of course."

Akira stared at her for a few seconds, not saying anything. Makoto became nervous. Did she say something wrong?

"I… I have to use the bathroom."

_And there it is_.

Makoto watched as Akira sped off into the public lavatory. She sighed. Why does he always do that whenever she tries talking to him? She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"I NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM TOO!" Yusuke sprinted past her and zoomed into the men's room at a speed she never saw the artist run at before.

"Wait! Yusuke! You guys, we need to go to Mementos before it gets too dark!" But by the time she finished, he was already through the door, away from earshot.

"Uh, Mako-chan?" Makoto turned around and saw Ann standing before her, holding a very satisfied Morgana in her hands. "M-maybe you should pet Mona for a while." Ann transferred the cat into Makoto's arms. The blond looked at her own hands for while, shuddered without really understanding why, and walked toward the bathroom. "I'm… gonna wash my hands real quick. I feel dirty."

Makoto sighed as she scratched Morgana's belly, not noticing his tongue rolling out of his mouth.  _What is with my friends?_

* * *

"Okay, so are we FINALLY ready to explore Mementos? No more bathroom breaks or forgotten cats?"

"I feel like we're missing something…"

"Oh, God, what now?"

"Shit! Where's Ryuji?"

Akira groaned loudly. He just wanted to get this over with. His headache hadn't gone away, and his latest trip to the bathroom took more time than he would care to admit, mainly because Yusuke had the sense of mind to use the stall RIGHT NEXT TO HIS and kept banging the walls every time he moaned in pleasure, the creep. Akira tried to put aside the realization that he had just sunk to Yusuke's pathetic, bottom-feeder level after he wacked off a fattie in a fucking subway bathroom stall. His right hand still shook, but this time his nutsack screamed in pain every time he took a step.

_God, where the fuck is Ryuji?_

As if on cue, the blond delinquent himself appeared. His eyes, at one point so vibrant and full of energy, looked completely dead. His back was slouched, even more than it usually was. His gaze simply stared off into space, and his mouth was open, drool drippling down from his moist lower lip.

"Oh my God!" Ann quickly walked up to him. "Ryuji, are you okay?"

The boy's eyes slowly traveled to Ann's. There was no life in them.

"Heyyyyyy Annnnnnnn," he slurred. Ryuji blankly nodded to everyone else. "Ssssssup?"

Akira ran his hand through his hair and pulled tightly. He knew exactly what was going on, but he didn't want the girls to worry. "Don't worry about him, you guys, he gets like this sometimes. All he needs is a little exercise in Mementos and he'll be right as rain. Right, Ryuji?" Akira smacked his shoulder, causing the blond to perk up a bit.

"Y-yeah! Let's uh, let's go…" His words trailed off. "Uh, where we go again?"

"To Mementos, idiot!" Morgana shouted at him. "Goddamn, you are so stupid."

"I knew that!"

Akira pulled his phone out and open the MetaNav.  _Everything's gonna be fine._

* * *

This was a brand-new floor in Mementos, but Akira really couldn't give less of a shit. After a while, they all started blurring together and looking the same. And what's up with those names? What was it? The Paths of Cumquat and Milquetoast? Some stupid bullshit like that.

_Why does my head hurt so much oh my God oh my God oh my GOD_.

Of course, he knew the answer to that one already, but Akira had a habit of asking himself obvious questions. If there's one thing he's learned in his short, virgin life, it's that a man can't bust seven hard nuts in one day without feeling like a tooth.

"Woahh, okay." Futaba was focusing, scanning the floor with her goggles. "Huh. This is kinda weird."

"What's up?" Akira asked.

"I… don't see anyone here. Like, this floor is big. REALLY big, but nobody is here. I can't detect any shadows whatsoever."

"That-that has to be a mistake," Makoto said. "Oracle, check again, please."

"Already did. Like, three times already. Ain't got anything."

Makoto gulped for some reason. "Mona?"

"I don't sense anything, Queen," the cat said. "Oracle's right. There's nothing."

Makoto let out a big, long, sigh and rubbed her forehead. "A-alright…"

_What is her deal?_

Akira didn't waste any time on making a decision. "Great, so if there're no enemies, we can just split up and cover more ground. There's probably a treasure or two here. Mona, Skull, Fox, you guys are with me. The rest of you can explore the other parts of the floor. Sound good?"

Everybody nodded.

"Great. Let's go."

* * *

Once the girls were well beyond earshot, Akira called the boys to attention. "Guys, we've got some serious problems."

Ryuji, who had been drooling during the entire ride over, focused his dim, beady eyes on Akira. "Whaddya mean, Joker?"

"Ryuji," Akira said, "how many times have you masturbated today?"

Normally Ryuji would be taken aback at the directness of this question, but today he was being extra stupid for some reason. He craned head up and mindlessly scratched his neck. "I dunno. I kinda lost count after the tenth or eleventh time."

Yusuke, Akira, and Mona stopped dead in their tracks and stared at the blond.

"E-eleven times?" Yusuke was amazed. "You lost track after ELEVEN times?"

"I mean, I think it was eleven? Definitely more than ten. Yeah, definitely."

"Daaaaamn dude!" Morgana laughed. "Why am I not surprised that a big retard like you spent his entire day jerking off? I didn't even bust that many nuts on the day I met Lady Ann." Morgana started drooling. "MMMMMMMM Lady Annnnnn…"

"Ryuji, you can't be serious." Even thinking about cumming that much hurt Akira's brain. He could practically hear his malnourished, bruised, battered pecker screaming in pain, begging him not to follow in his retarded friend's example. Sometimes, Akira felt genuine pity for his dick: if he were trapped in a room with nothing but his phone and an internet connection to keep him company, he knew that he would tugboat his cock until the damn skin came off and nothing but red-hot muscle greeted his hand.

"Nah dude, I remember it like it was yesterday. I came a lot."

"It was TODAY you idiot!" Morgana, having put up with Akira's world-class taunts and bouts of physical abuse, was grateful to have a retarded friend like Ryuji around. He was a great guy that he could roast 24/7 and not feel an ounce of remorse for.

Yusuke, however, seemed to take this situation in a completely different way. He grabbed Ryuji by the shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. "Ryuji," Yusuke breathed, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Please. Tell me your secrets. How do I become like you?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Watch a lotta porn I guess? Don't go outside for an entire day?"

Akira could tell Yusuke was mentally taking notes. "What the fuck is wrong with you two? Guys, focus!" He shouldn't have yelled; his already pulsing headache just got even worse. He took a deep, long breath, and composed himself. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Guys, we are addicted to masturbating!"

"No we're not," Morgana said immediately.

"Um, yes we are."

"Nope."

Akira hated this. Morgana was one of those people who automatically disagreed with people immediately after they suggested something, without even thinking about what was being said or why it should be disagreed with. Akira couldn't tell if the cat was a genuine ignoramus or was just trying to take the piss out of him. Probably both.

He sighed. "Look, guys, the girls are really mad at us. Do you know why?" His teammates stared at him blankly. "Because we're always late! And do you know why we're always late?"

Yusuke scratched his chin for a moment. "Because it takes longer to orgasm the more times you do it?"

"Ye-NO! We're always late because we spend all of our time jerking off! How are we supposed to be effective Phantom Thieves like this? Are we really just fine with spending our entire lives jerking off and not actually getting laid? Ryuji, buddy, who were you thinking about when you came?"

"That depends," Ryuji replied. "Which time?"

"Anytime. The first time."

"First it was Ann." Morgana gave Ryuji a quick low-five, complimenting his taste. "Then Haru. Then that hot girl in my gym class. Then some k-pop star whose name I don't know, then Haru again…" Ryuji trailed off. "Yeah, tonight was primarily a Haru night, now that I think about it."

Akira nodded sagely. He's been there before. "Okay, great. Now, have you ever considered the possibility that you don't have to just fantasize about banging Haru?"

Ryuji's blank, mindless stare didn't change a bit. Akira sighed.

"Have you ever thought that, maybe, you could actually, I dunno,  _talk_  to Haru, or Ann, or that hot girl in your gym class, or whoever really, and ask them out on a date? So your fantasies could become realities and you wouldn't have to spend all of your time masturbating?"

Ryuji looked genuinely confused, as did Yusuke. "I don't follow," the artist said blankly. "Are you suggesting that we should…" Yusuke spent a few seconds thinking about how to phrase this foreign concept into words. "Are you saying that we should ACTUALLY have sex with women, and not just spend all day busting nuts to the thought of it?"

"Yes, Yusuke. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Yusuke didn't seem to understand. "But… but why would we do such a thing?"

"Are you kidding? The only reason why we masturbate is because we can't get laid. And we can't get laid because we're pathetic virgins with no idea how to interact with women. And we're pathetic virgins because we spend all day masturbating. Do you see what I'm saying? Something's gotta give, you guys! We have to do something to break this cycle! Aren't you tired of using your hand as a substitute for a vagina?"

The boys thought for a moment. Yusuke shook his head. "No, not really."

"Me neither," Ryuji said. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"And what do I care?" Morgana asked. "I'm a cat! Once I get my sexy human body back, I'll be clapping so many cheeks that I won't even think about my hand!"

Akira knew that this would happen. Truth be told, this wasn't the first time this thought came to mind. Some days, after an intense session, he would stare at himself in the mirror, flinging insults to himself, chastising himself for resorting to jerking it instead of actually talking to girls. Akira wasn't exactly a vain person, but he had to admit that he was a pretty attractive guy. He showered regularly, made sure he didn't stink, made sure his clothes looked nice.

_I mean, I'm not some god that can get any girl he wants just by flexing at her_ , he often thought to himself,  _but come on, I shouldn't be spending this much time masturbating! Can't I get a girl? Any girl?_

Akira knew, however, that deep down, he didn't actually want 'any girl,' despite what he kept telling himself. He wanted THAT girl, the girl who he spent more time thinking about than any other, and not even in a sexual way. He thought about holding her hand. He thought about comforting her when she was sad. He thought about taking her out, laughing with her as he cracked stupid jokes, her giving him that warm, sincere, heart-melting smile that made his mind race.

It was so weird. When Akira thought about Ann, he thought about ramming her from behind, and that usually did the trick. When he thought about Haru, he thought about her riding him on a bed, and that was enough to make him cum. But Makoto was…

Makoto was just different.

"Listen, Joker," Yusuke reasoned. "I understand what you are getting at. I think that it is admirable that you are trying to help us, and I understand that masturbating this much is not what society deems a 'healthy amount.' But I truly think you overestimate us. I'm adept at using katanas and ice magic to curbstomp mythological creatures into the dust. I am also an artist, and can draw you anything you want. Ryuji has big muscles and an excellent respiratory system. He can smack shadows around like he's Conan the Barbarian and then run for several miles without even getting winded. And Morgana is a naturally gifted fighter, his wind magic and knack for detecting shadows proving an invaluable asset to our team. But, Joker, you must understand. All of us, you included, I am sure, would much rather spend all day in our rooms, beating ourselves off, than risk the shame and humiliation of getting rejected by a woman. Am I right, fellas?"

Ryuji and Morgana nodded sadly. "He's got a point, Joker," Morgana said. "We're pussies."

This response didn't surprise Akira at all. In fact, that was often the same exact conclusion that he came to himself. He didn't want to admit it, but despite his good qualities, Akira knew that he was too much of a coward to try and date a girl. There were so many times, so many times during his stay in Tokyo, where it was just him and Makoto, all alone. Maybe they were in the Shujin Student Council room, discussing their strategies for infiltrating the next palace, or maybe he was walking her back to the train after a double feature in a movie theater. And every time he found himself in that situation, he always got nervous, always started thinking about the what-ifs.

_Makoto Niijima…_

For all her annoying quirks, Akira valued Makoto as a friend, as a teammate. He often thought about how happy he would be, how fulfilled his life would become, if his fantasy of gently kissing Makoto's soft, perfect lips became a reality, if he could actually reach out and wrap his arms around her thin, shapely waist as she pressed her body against his.

But for some reason, for some damn, stupid, silly reason, he could never take the first step. He wanted to be with her, and he wanted it badly. But every time he thought about taking the initiative, every time he wanted to ask her out, every time he wanted to propose being more than just friends…

Well, usually he would just go to the bathroom and masturbate until his urethra burned, really.

"Guys," Akira said. "Have you ever thought that it's just… I dunno, a little creepy?"

"What do you mean?" Ryuji asked.

"Like…" Akira struggled with his words. "We all masturbate while thinking about these girls, our  _friends_. I know that it's a natural thing to do. Everybody masturbates. But we do it so often. Don't you ever feel like we're objectifying them by doing this? We constantly think of them as things to have sex with, right? I mean, when you're masturbating, there's really nothing wrong with that, you just need an outlet to get rid of all your pent-up sexual energy. But this is so common for us that… I dunno, what if the way we think about them while we masturbate is the way we think about them in reality? What if, deep down, we all  _actually_  view them as nothing but objects? Isn't that fucked up?"

Yusuke was taken aback at Akira's words. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came. Finally, after thinking over what was just told to him, he spoke. "N-no! Absolutely not! Akira, how could you say that? I…"

It was clear to Akira that his words caught Yusuke by surprise. This thought never occurred to the artist before, and he could tell that Yusuke was trying his hardest to leverage this new point of view.

"I love our friends. They are wonderful young women. Haru, Makoto, Futaba, Ann. Even our female allies who are not necessary part of the Phantom Thieves. All of them. They are strong, they are resourceful, they are admirable. No. No, Joker, I… I cannot agree with you! I admit it, I masturbate a lot, and when I do, I think about women in rather… disrespectful ways. But when everything is said and done, when I return to reality, when I join our friends on an adventure, I never, ever, think of them as anything else except as my equals. And that goes for all women as well!"

Morgana also spoke up after thinking about what Akira said as well. "I know I joke around a lot. And I know it's hard for me to control my… urges. But I would die to protect Lady Ann. Hell, I would die to save any of our friends. I'm with Yusuke on this one, even though… Even though what you said about objectifying them when we jerk off is pretty true."

Ryuji nodded. It seemed to Akira that his marbles were slowly restored, and Ryuji had a bit more of his wits about him. "I get what Joker is saying, though. I can be a… I can be a really shallow guy sometimes. Women aren't just things for us to stick our cocks into. I know that! But I'm horny a lot, and when I get horny I just start thinking about girls in ways that normally would never cross my mind. Oh God, and actually seeing those girls after you spent an hour jacking off to the thought of them fucking you…"

The other boys shuddered as Ryuji trailed off. They knew exactly what Ryuji was talking about, and it wasn't a feeling they ever quite got used to.

The four friends stood there in silence, forgetting all about Mementos or exploring this floor. They just stood there and thought to themselves, not saying a single word. A cold, heavy air weighed down on them, keeping them in place.

Suddenly, Akira remembered something. He looked up at Yusuke. "Hold up. What did you just say?"

Yusuke tilted his head slightly. "Um, what do you mean?"

"You said that the girls are wonderful women and the way you think about them in reality is different from your sex fantasies. You said that, didn't you?"

"Essentially, yes." Yusuke was visibly confused. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just a little a confused. Repeat to me, word for word, who exactly are you talking about?"

"Our… our female teammates, leader. Haru, Makoto, Futab-"

Yusuke's sentence was interrupted by Akira's scream.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Morgana and Ryuji jumped back at Akira's outburst. What was going on?

"Akira, what has gotten into you?!"

"YOU JACKED OFF TO FUTABA!" Akira began hyperventilating. "Oh my God, what the fuck Yusuke? What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK! What is wrong with you!?"

"Umm…" Yusuke wasn't sure where this was going. "Yes? I think we have already established that we all masturbate the thought of our female teammates. What's your point?"

Akira was at a loss for words. He only just noticed that his headache, which disappeared as their conversation went on, was back again. His hand began its masturbation-dance (that's what he called it) again.

"How the fuck could you masturbate to Futaba? Like, HOW!?"

"Jesus, dude," Ryuji chimed in. "Chill. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? She's my sister! She's like, a sister to all of us!"

"Okay, first off, no she's not," Ryuji said. "She ain't related to you, or any of us. And second: bro, I know she ain't as tall as the others and she doesn't have big boobs and whatever, but Futaba is cute AF, man."

"I have to agree," Yusuke said. "I don't know what kind of quasi-familial relationship you have with her, but Futaba is quite attractive."

Akira turned to his freaky cat-friend. "You too, Mona?"

He nodded. "Yup. She's a cutie patootie wootie."

"Never say that again."

"Fuck you."

Akira was about to give a retort and explain his reasoning for why all of his friends were being fucking creepy, but Morgana's ears suddenly perked up. He looked down the hallway of Mementos and squinted, before opening his eyes widely in surprise.

"Um, guys? We got a problem."

"Hm? What is it?"

Morgana stepped back. "I… can't tell. I sense something. It's kinda like a shadow, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Hold on!" Ryuji gripped his weapon tight. "You and Oracle both said that there was nothin' on this floor, remember?"

"Yeah, we did, but I guess we were wrong." Morgana gulped. "I just, I just have a really weird feeling about this right now. I can't tell what I'm looking at."

The other boys unsheathed their weapons and took an aggressive stance.

"Do you think it's the Reaper?" Akira asked.

"I'm not sure." Morgana gulped. "Oh, oh man! It's coming towards us!"

Akira scolded himself. He was the leader, how could he let his guard down so easily? "Fox, Skull, Mona! Call out your Personas! I want any buffs you guys have on us, NOW!" The three thieves immediately obliged, quickly casting magic mirrors and strength boosts to the four teammates. Akira called out his own Persona, and cast his own buff. "What's its ETA, Mona?"

"It's getting closer by the second!"

"Can we outrun it?"

"We can't! It's going faster than my top speed when I transform into a car! God, it's so fast! Get ready!"

Akira hadn't been this nervous in Mementos for a long time. What the hell could Morgana possibly be seeing? He was ready for a fight, but he began to regret telling the team to split up. He knew that he could trust his friends' abilities to scan areas for enemies, so splitting the team up to cover more ground seemed like a good call. Something like this never happened though. If this shadow, or whatever it was, became too hard for them to handle, then they needed to regroup with the others, or else they'll be sitting ducks.

The boys could hear it. It was travelling far down the tunnel, its loud steps getting closer and closer as the seconds ticked by. The boys could only see so far into the dark tunnel, but eventually, the thing's form began to materialize before them. It was fast, and only getting bigger and more defined.

Sweat dripped down Akira's head.  _This is it_ , he thought.  _C'mon already!_

Before Akira could give out any orders, before the four friends could start dishing out their attacks, the creature before them appeared in full vision in front of them or a brief second. Before they had any time to react, the creature jumped up into the air at the speed of light, zooming past all of their heads. Before the thieves knew what was going on, the thing was already behind them.

They turned around quickly, startled at the creature's impressive speed. They saw it, its back turned to them as it landed from its jump. It appeared humanoid. It fell into a crouching position, before slowly rising on its two legs. Without warning, the thing spun around, facing the Phantom Thieves.

The boys had never seen anything like this before. It wasn't some kind of mythological being that they encountered so often, nor was it a legendary hero or abstract god. It was… some guy. He looked like a perfectly normal human. There weren't any weird tentacles or weapons on him, or any semblance, really, of some hidden power. He looked like any guy you would see standing on the sidewalk.

He even wore perfectly normal, human clothes, although Akira immediately thought that he looked like he just came from some frat boy douchebag convention. He wore a white, slightly pink Oxford button-down with matching shorts, a typical, brown belt holding it in place. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal somewhat muscular forearms, and on his left wrist, a gold, expensive-looking watch, the kind you only see Soundcloud rappers wear. His shorts revealed a pair of shins, which were harshly faded toward the bottom. Akira couldn't tell exactly, but it seemed like this guy had a really bad case of sock-tan. This faux-pas was made all the more awkward by the guy's brown, sockless boat shoes.

His face was clean-cut, and his head was attached to one of the thickest necks Akira had ever laid eyes on. Curiously, he was a white guy. This wasn't exactly a super-uncommon sight to be had in Tokyo, especially in this day and age, but Akira still wasn't used to seeing anybody who didn't look Japanese, having spent most of life in a small town on the east coast that rarely received tourists or any international attention at all. A large, fake-looking gem sparkled on his earlobe.

For a while, nothing happened. The four friends were still a little stunned, and not quite sure what just happened. The two parties simply stared at each other, not saying anything. After about twenty seconds of waiting, the unknown guy before them broke his plain, neutral expression, and revealed a magnificent, cocky smile. His hands slowly rose up from his sides. Yusuke and Ryuji shifted their weight, preparing to strike if the guy tried anything funny. Coming closer and closer together, the guy raised his hands to his midsection, until they were firmly, yet comfortably, clasped together.

Everything shook. Akira thought the tunnel would collapse on them as they stumbled to and fro, trying to regain balance from the violently shaking Mementos. The guy was clearly undisturbed, remaining completely stable as the ground cracked and debris fell from the ceiling.

"Shit! Shit!" Akira didn't expect this at all. Had they ever met a shadow that could do something like this? The dude barely did anything, and suddenly the entire world felt like it was going to collapse. Any thoughts he once had about the white guy being human dissipated immediately. "Yusuke, throw some ice at him!"

The artist obliged, summoning his Persona, and casting his most powerful ice attack at the newcomer. The attack bounced off of him, clearly doing little damage. He didn't even seem to notice that it was there.

"Fuck. Ryuji, lightning!"

Even with the powerful thunderstorm Ryuji created, it had just about the same effect as Yusuke's ice. Without waiting for orders, Mona sent a powerful wind attack, but to the same effect. Akira grit his teeth. Could anything harm this guy?

The leader was just about to summon his own Persona, when something unexpected happened. The dude spoke.

It was low, deep. It made Akira's heart shudder and his arms shake.  _What the fuck is going on?_

"Stop." The guy's voice reverberated around them. It was loud, but he clearly wasn't shouting. Their bodies suddenly froze, they couldn't move their limbs, no matter how hard they tried.

"W-what the hell?!" Ryuji cried. "I can't move anythin'!"

The boys began to levitate into the air, making Akira's heart beat even faster than before.

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck," Morgana screamed. "IdonwannadieIdonwannadieIdonwannadie!"

"Mona! Skull! Calm the fuck down! Everything is going to be alright!" Akira commanded. Despite how terrified he was, something seemed off about this whole situation.  _If he wanted us dead, why didn't he just do it by now?_  Akira thought.  _What's he trying to do?_

Mementos stopped shaking. Everything went quiet as the boys stayed levitated in the air, unable to move. Was this guy some kind of god? What did he want from them? What was he trying to accomplish?

Slowly, the boys were pulled towards the monster before them. His expression hadn't changed in the slightest. His hands were still clasped together, that smile still plastered tight on his face. As they got closer to his face, however, the boys noticed something odd. That thing's eyes. They were black, beady. There was no life, no soul to be found in them. Despite his earth-shattering smile and cocky demeanor, staring at that dude's eyes felt like staring into a bottomless pit.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the thing spoke again.

"What day is it tomorrow?"

That question hung in the air for a while. Nobody wanted to say anything. Akira looked around. His friends were sweating just as much as he was, and they were all thinking the same thing, whether or not they should reply, or what would befall them if they gave the wrong answer. The guy didn't seem to care, however. Despite their silence, his expression remained unchanged, not showing even the slightest hint of annoyance at their muteness.

Finally, Ryuji opened his mouth. "W-Wednesday?"

The thing turned its head and looked Ryuji square in the eyes. The boy gulped loudly.

"Yes," the guy said. "It is. But what day will it be?"

Akira thought for a moment. "Um… November 1st, right?"

The guy snapped his head at lightning speed to face Akira. He was sure that he could hear the dude's bones cracking in his neck, there was no way a guy could move that quickly without getting his shit fucked. The sudden movement and eye contact took Akira by surprise, and he only just barely stopped himself from pissing his Metaverse pants.

"Yes," the thing said, plainly. "It is. November 1st. Otherwise known as…"

The tunnel began to shake again. It was more violent, more chaotic than before. Akira was surprised that the walls didn't crack. The monster's eyes began to change, too. The dark, lifeless color they once had gave way to a bright, piercing, blue shine. They lit up suddenly, and with such an intensity that the boys thought they would go blind at its power. The monster's voice was even louder, even more threatening than it was before, but accompanied by a horrible, ear-splitting quality that reminded Akira of a guy screaming into a poor-quality microphone.

" **OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE FIRST DAY OF NO NUT NOVEMBER**."

Any piss that Akira managed to keep in his bowels rushed out entirely.

A dark, ominous glow began to materialize around the boys. It focused, and came down on their crotches. Akira could feel a tight, tight pressure on his nutsack and yogurt shaft, making him howl in pain. The other boys were in the same boat, screaming and desperately trying to break free from the monster's hold so that they could grab their poor petite pricks.

After what felt like hours, but was probably only for a few seconds, the monster released his hold on the four, letting them collapse on the ground. The package-crushing light was gone, and the boys could freely grab their crotches and try their best to nurture their aching dicks back to health. They groaned and groveled on the ground, completely powerless before the god before them.

His eyes still glowing and the ground still shaking, the monster opened its mouth again. " **YOU FOUR HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO CARRY THIS WONDEROUS MONTH TO HEART. FROM NOW, UNTIL THE VERY LAST SECOND OF NOVEMBER, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO NUT. YOU CANNOT JERK OFF. YOU CANNOT LET THE TEMPTATIONS OF WOMEN WEAKEN YOUR SOULS. YOU MUST CARRY THROUGH THIS HELLISH GAUNTLET UNTIL THE BITTER END. SHOULD YOU PROVE VICTORIOUS, YOU WILL EXPERIENCE A POWER UNLIKE ANYTHING YOU HAVE EVER FELT BEFORE. BUT, IF ONE OF YOU FOUR GO SLAPPING SOME THOT'S CHEEKS, OR DECIDE TO PRACTICE THE SKIN FLUTE…** "

The dark light returned on their crotches, squeezing their dicks again like a vice, their hands doing nothing to protect them from the pain.

" **THEN YOUR DICKS SHALL BE FORFEIT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?** "

There was nothing Akira could do. He was drooling on the ground, the pain making his mind go blank. He was only barely registering what the guy was saying, but he had to say  _something,_  anything to stop this hell. "Y-YES! I UNDERSTAND!"

"I UNDERSTAND!" Yusuke cried. "Please, oh GOD please put an end to this!"

Ryuji was smashing his head against the ground, obviously preferring to get a concussion than feel his junk getting this fucked. "I UNDERSTAND," he screamed.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU SAYYYYY!" Morgana screamed.

Almost immediately after Morgana said those words, the pain vanished. They boys no longer felt like their manhoods were in danger of going extinct, but it left them with a horrible soreness that they knew would be there throughout the coming weeks.

Mementos also stopped shaking. The ground stabilized, allowing the boys to grovel and writhe in peace.

The fiend's eyes stopped glowing, and returned to the black, formless void they once were. His smile and clasped-together hands, however, hadn't moved a bit since the ordeal began, keeping that godly, otherworldly pose.

"Okay, then," the guy said. His voice was at a normal pitch, no longer the deafening rumble it once was. He turned around and started walking back into the dark depths of the tunnel. "See you fags later."

Akira couldn't believe it. This, this… this douchebag wannabe white boy motherfucker with sock tans brighter than the fucking sun just put a curse on their dicks and was about to leave as quickly as he appeared. Just what the fuck was going on? None of this made any sense!

"W-wait!" Akira managed to scream. That managed to get the guy's attention, as he stopped in his tracks, his back still turned to them.

"W…why?" Akira had a million questions running through his mind. Where did this guy come from? What was he? WHO was he? How did he manage to get into Mementos? Was he a shadow? But despite this, only one question managed to escape his lips. "Why are you doing this to us?"

The guy said nothing. He slowly turned around and faced them again. He had the same exact expression, the same exact pose he had before. But something was different. His eyes, which were once so lifeless and cold, now shone with the faintest, tiniest glimmer. It wasn't much, but all four thieves could see it. Something about this shine moved their hearts immensely. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before.

The guy opened his mouth one last time and spoke his final words before he slowly faded away and disappeared before their very eyes.

"You know I had to do it to em."

And like a dream, he was gone.

The boys said nothing. The confusion of what they just saw, combined with the pain their dicks were still in, warranted no comment. Akira could feel himself lose his grip on his own consciousness, the soreness and situation being too much to bear.

"What. The. Fuuuuccckkk…." Akira moaned, before gently closing his eyes, and passing out on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

All he could see were chains.

_Not this shit again._

Even though the place initially royally creeped him the fuck out, Akira had gotten pretty much completely used to the Velvet Room. He hated waking up on that gross prison cell mattress, and the overbearingly oppressive stone walls made him feel very uncomfortable, but after a few moments of waking up and absorbing his surroundings, the place became almost mundane, an ordinary part of Akira's totally bizarre life. He never appreciated being taken there during his sleep, without any sort of warning from Igor, but Akira assumed that asking them to be a little more polite was probably out of the question.

Groggily, Akira stepped out of the bed, clutching his head and rubbing his eyes. He approached the barred door and saw the ever-smiling Igor behind his desk, the Twin Wardens flanking him on each side.

"Look who's finally awake! Pay attention, Inmate! Our master wants to speak with you!"

"Be thankful that Master is spending so much time and effort to rehabilitate you, Inmate. This is a rare opportunity."

Akira was used to the Wardens as well, but he had a hard time telling which was Caroline and which was Justine, mainly because he never gave enough of a shit to even try to remember.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Akira said. He focused his attention to the smiling hunchback. "What do you want, dude?"

Igor chuckled.  _Does anything faze this guy?_  Akira thought to himself.

"Your rehabilitation is going smoothly, Trickster," Igor said. "It may even be complete sooner than you think."

"Mmhmmm…" Akira kept rubbing his eyes. He really wished that Igor had something of more substance to say, all the cryptic BS that he kept throwing at him about his rehab did nothing to help him understand this place or the Metaverse in general. If he was going to drag him back into the Velvet Room during sleep, he could have at least had some worthwhile news to give him.

Why did Igor bring him here, anyway? Did something happen lately that he didn't notice? Akira scratched his head, trying to remember.

_What happened yesterday? I woke up, fapped, went to school, fapped, went home, fapped, went to Mementos…_

The events of last night's excursion in Mementos hit him like a ton of bricks. Everything suddenly came rushing back: the douchebag, the dick-curse, him and his friends floating in the air. Akira's mind was totally awake now. He gripped the metal bars before him and spoke to Igor, panic in his voice.

"Uh, yeah, good to know, that's great. Hey, uh, look, could you tell me who that guy was? I have no idea what that thing was supposed to be and I was pretty sure I was gonna die back there. Was that like, some special part of Mementos or something?"

Even though he kept smiling, Akira could tell that Igor was missing something. He cocked his head to the side and chuckled lightly.

"What are you talking about, Trickster? I simply brought you here to update you on your progress."

"You know, the guy! That white dude who came out of nowhere! C'mon, you have to know who I'm talking about."

Igor only cocked at eyebrow at this, his gaze unchanging.

One of the twins spoke up. "Stop bothering our master with your nonsense, Inmate! He has better things to do than listen to your meaningless babble!"

Akira couldn't believe it. His heart began to pound, and he started to panic.  _No,_  he thought.  _No, this isn't right! How could Igor not know about that… that thing? It couldn't have been a dream, it was real!_

"Holy shit," Akira muttered. "Holy fucking shit. This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening!"

"Watch your language, Inmate!"

Akira ignored her. He felt as though his entire world was crashing down. Everything was blurry, his head began to shake. He realized that he was crying and wiped the tears from his eyes. His breathing was rapid, uncontrolled, desperate. "No! No, no, no! Oh God, please God, no!"

"Inmate!" The two girls ran towards the cell and smacked the bars with their batons. "Behave yourself, or we will- "

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The two girls jumped back in shock and fear. Akira's face was contorted, manic, almost animal-like. His eyes were bloodshot and red, and foam dribbled from the side of his mouth. "You have no idea what's going on! Do you know what just happened? Do you have even the slightest IDEA of the pain that I will be forced to endure? Do you!?"

"W-what are you talking about?!"

Akira gripped the bars and banged his head against them. He screamed at the top of his lungs. "I CAN'T BEAT MY MEAT FOR A FUCKING MONTH YOU LITTLE ASSHOLES!"

"I-Inmate! You had better stop this foolishness right now, or else-"

"Or else what? You'll kill me? Go ahead! I would rather die than endure this suffering, this eternal punishment!"

Akira was not a particularly religious person, but when times became desperate, he never turned his nose on anything that could possibly help. He fell on his knees, clasped his hands together, and looked up to ceiling. "Oh, God, please, oh Heavenly Father, PLEASE tell me this is all some sick prank! And if it isn't, for the love of all that is holy strike me down now and end my suffering!"

The twins were paralyzed with fear, completely unnerved by the beast that their inmate became. Igor, however, began to sweat a little.

"Trickster." There was something in his voice that Akira could not quite make out. Trepidation? Akira looked at Igor's face, and noticed that, for the first time ever, his immaculate smile began to waver. "This 'white guy' you were talking about. What exactly did he look like?"

Akira got up off the ground. Was Igor… scared? "Uhh, he had dark hair, a gold watch. He dressed like some douchebag fratboy from Todai. He was always smiling and had his hands together like some kind of freak. Oh! And he had the brightest fucking socktans I had ever- "

Igor stood up from his chair so quickly, it fell down behind him. His smile was long gone, and his eyes were like dinner plates. Beads of sweat kept materializing on his sizeable forehead, dripping down his face. There was something so strange, so alien to Akira about Igor's reaction. The normally elusive, calm, and ever-in-control Igor suddenly became his complete opposite before Akira's very eyes. Igor became… Igor became vulnerable.

"Caroline. Justine. Leave us." Igor gulped loudly. "Now."

"B-but master! We can't leave you here alone with this inma-"

Then, something happened. Igor's eyes became piercing, red lights, almost the exact same kind Akira saw on the guy from Mementos. A screeching, deafening, high-pitched, white noise buzzed in the air, and the entire Velvet Room shook. Igor swiftly turned to face the Twin Wardens, raised his hand, and deftly chopped it down in the air until it pointed right at the two girls.

" **BEGONE, THOTS!"**

And without any further notice, the two girls disappeared.

Akira was grateful that he had already pissed himself earlier.

Everything came back to normal as Igor composed himself. Akira said nothing, leaving the room completely silent, save for Igor's heavy breathing. After a while, the hunchback rubbed his face, sighed, and walked over to Akira's cell.

_Damn,_  Akira thought as Igor approached the metal bars.  _I've never been this close to Igor before. He's got a big fucking nose._

Akira's heart skipped a beat as Igor took out a key from his pocket and started to unlock the cell. Was this really happening? Akira wasn't sure if this was some kind of test, because he was sure his rehabilitation wasn't over yet, whatever that meant.

However, Igor clearly did not intend to let Akira out. Instead of opening the door all the way, he simply creaked it open and let himself inside, locking it behind him. Akira suddenly remembered his father's advice from long ago, that if he ever found himself in jail, to make sure he never bent down to pick up a bar of soap in front of his cellmate. Akira subtly grabbed his asscheeks and clinched them together.  _That honker ain't going anywhere near my ass, creep_.

Igor did not seem to notice Akira's cautionary steps, and if he did, he certainly didn't care. He collapsed on Akira's dirty cot, stretched his legs out, and sighed deeply, as though he were trying to find the best way to deliver bad news. He reached into his pocket and took out what looked to be a homemade joint. He pointed it to Akira.

"Wanna hit?"

_What the fuck?_  Akira thought.  _Is he seriously offering me a joint?_

"Uhh… I'm good."

Igor pursed his lips and quickly raised his eyebrows, giving Akira a classic 'suit yourself, loser' expression. He took out a lighter from his coat pocket, flicked it a few times until a flame materialized, and brought it to the tip of the joint, inhaling deeply. Akira watched him with fascination, mesmerized at the sight of the uncanny and mysterious Igor reclining on some crappy bed and doing something so mundane, so  _human_  as enjoying a good hit, listening to him mumble in agitation when the paper did not light immediately, flicking the lighter off with a stylish swing of his wrist once he got a good blaze, breathing in until the tip was red-hot, slowly craning his head back, and finally releasing a huge cloud of smoke out of his mouth.

"Fuuuuuuuuccckkkkk…" he moaned. "I needed that." The hunchback sat up and looked Akira in the eyes. "Take a seat, Trickster."

Akira looked around the cell. Noticing that there weren't any chairs, he sat on the ground and leaned his back against the wall.  _Did that hunchbacked fuck just cuck me out of my own bed?_

Igor rubbed his eyes and face with his hand. "I don't really know how I'm supposed to start this, so I'm just going to straight-up say it. Kid, you're fucked."

Akira felt his heart drop. "W-woah! H-hang on there man, you can't just throw that at me like that. First of all, who the hell was that guy?"

Igor took another hit and started rubbing his nose. Not just with his fingers, but his entire hand. Akira watched as he took the entire shaft in his hand, and rubbed it up, and down, up and down. Akira suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Well, that's a little complicated. Okay, look. Mementos. It's the palace for society. The entire world's cognition is trapped there, and the way people think and what they believe are reflected there, just like a palace. This should all be review for you, yes?" Akira nodded. "Okay, so here's the thing. You can think of me as sort of… as sort of a curator for the Metaverse. Anything that happens within the Metaverse, I more or less can see and already know about. But sometimes, cognitions change. Something might happen in the real world that affects the Metaverse in sudden, profound ways that nobody can predict or see coming, even me. Something catastrophic like 9/11 or the Sarin Attack, or something extremely influential like a religion spreading or a movie getting watched everywhere could flip everything on its head, and turn Mementos into a completely unrecognizable place. Do you understand?"

"Uh, yeah. But what does that have to do with that guy? I've never seen him before. Is he like, what, some religious leader I never heard about?"

Igor gripped his nose really hard, all the blood making the tip swell up and turn red. A single bead of sweat trailed off of Akira's brow as he looked down at his own crotch.  _You're killing me here, Igor._

"I suppose you could say that. The most accurate description of him would be… a modern day god. A god for the Internet Age, a deity born from the collective consciousness of humankind. Jesus, I need another hit."

"What? That doesn't make any sense, man." Akira spoke as Igor dragged on the joint. "Hold on, if you know so much about him, how come you didn't know who I was talking about earlier? Why couldn't you see him? I thought you saw everything that happens in my life."

"I like to keep myself updated with human affairs. Most of my time is spent keeping careful watch over the internet and popular culture, keeping track over everything, waiting to see if something big will happen that will make the Metaverse change. I always try to keep myself prepared, but not even I can see those changes right as they happen. Truth be told, I was expecting him to materialize. But I had no idea it would be this soon. I would have warned you if I knew."

"I see." Something about this unnerved Akira. The idea that something could slip by even Igor's watch was a frightening concept. "What's his name?"

"I am NOT saying his name here! That is some bad juju. No, you're just going to have to find out for yourself. It shouldn't be too hard, you have all of the clues."

Akira sighed. He knew that this wasn't going to be easy.  _But wait_ , he thought,  _what clues is Igor talking about?_ Akira remembered what the guy said to him and his friends.

"No Nut November." The words tasted like acid in his mouth. Akira had never heard such a vile combination of words before, everything about it made him want to vomit. "He told me… he told me that me and my friends are going to be forced to do No Nut November."

"Yes, I gathered that from your little outburst earlier." Igor looked Akira dead in the eyes, and gave him a sincere, sympathetic look. "Akira. I am so, so sorry. But you had better kiss your cock goodbye. You are never going to see it ever again."

Akira stood up. His worst fears had been confirmed. "NO! Igor, dude, there's got to be something you can do! You're the master here, not that little prick!" He grabbed Igor by the shoulders. "Please, I'm begging you, you have to do something about this."

Igor sighed and looked at the ground sadly. "I am sorry, Trickster. There is nothing I can do. He is simply too powerful of a force for the Velvet Room to do anything."

Without missing a single beat, Akira got on his knees and returned to praying, this time with more devotion than before. He clasped his hands together, put his forehead against them, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Soul of Christ, make me holy, body of Christ, be my salvation, blood of Christ, let me drink your wine."

Igor rubbed his face again. "What are you doing now?"

"You won't help me, but that doesn't mean that God won't." Akira returned to his sincere prayer. "I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and the earth…"

The sight almost brought a tear to Igor's eyes. Akira was completely helpless before him, and nothing could fix his situation. He reached over and grabbed Akira's shoulder, making him stop his hurried prayers. He rubbed it in comfort. "I don't know what God is planning. But I'm pretty sure he hates you, kid."

Akira sighed. "An entire month… A whole month without masturbating."

"Yeah."

Akira looked up. "Wait, hold on. Why are telling me to kiss my cock goodbye? Is it so unfathomable for you that I could go an entire month without jerking off?"

Igor was incredulous. "It is absolutely unfathomable to me, Trickster. Have you forgotten that I have watched over you and your friends carefully over the course of your rehabilitation? Caroline and Justine have started to take bets on how many times you'd masturbate in a single week, and every time their predictions were far too low. You not masturbating is as foreign a concept to me as dry water. And that Ryuji fellow you hang out with…" Igor shuddered. "There is no way he's human. He has to be, like, some kind of ancient masturbation deity from the Metaverse that accidentally found its way to Japan. There's no other explanation for how many times he jerks off."

"You… You've watched me masturbate." It wasn't a question. Akira was just making a simple statement. "You've watched me, and Ryuji, and Yusuke, and Morgana, masturbate."

"And Ann, and Haru, and Makoto, and Futaba. It is my job to look over the Trickster and his friends. No need to apologize." Akira blinked. Apologizing to the creepy, hunchbacked stoner had never crossed his mind. "I am quite used to it."

Akira's eyes glazed over as he processed this new information. He did a quick run-through of everything wrong with his life, just in case he was missing something that was fucking him in the ass.

_Number one: There's some kind of god with boat shoes and sock tans running around Mementos, and he is by far the most powerful enemy we have ever fought._

_Number two: My friends and I are masturbation addicts, and it is getting so bad that we might jerk ourselves to our graves._

_Number three: I have to not masturbate for an entire month, and if I do, I lose my dick._

_Number four: All of my masturbation sessions in Tokyo (and those bazillion times in Hawaii, now that I think about it) were all watched by Igor and those two preteen fucks whose names I still can't remember._

_Number five: I now have confirmation that Makoto masturbates too._

_Wait, what?_

"Wait, what?" Akira asked. "You're telling me that Makoto masturbates?"

Igor tensed up. "Oh jeez, I forgot you had that crush on her. Just forget I said anything."

"Hey! You can't just say that Makoto masturbates and just leave me hanging like that! Dude, c'mon, does she ever think about me?"

"I think it's time you went to bed."

"Igor, I-"

Before Akira could finish his sentence, Igor grabbed him by the shirt and flung him on the bed, displaying a surprising amount of strength. As he pinned him down, successfully resisting Akira's frantic struggles, he reached down into his sock and pulled out a small blackjack.

"Remember, Trickster," Igor said to the wide-eyed Akira, who stared at the blackjack before him. "The Velvet Room is yours. If you need any help or support, I will be here for you. Good luck not busting a nut for a month. You'll need it."

"PLEASE DON'T HIT ME WITH THAT THI-"

Igor hit Akira over the head with the blackjack, and everything went black.

* * *

Akira jolted up, his face covered in sweat.

"Guys, he's awake!"

It didn't take long for Akira to realize where he was. The cold lights, stiff bed, incessant white noise.  _Oh yeah_ , he thought.  _Sexy doctor lady_. He grinned to himself.  _I definitely know what I'm gonna think about toni-_

_Fuck_.

All of his fellow Phantom Thieves crowded around him.

"Akira! Are you okay?"

The poor boy looked at his crotch. His eye twitched.

"Peachy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, there's chapter 2. I know it isn't as long as the first one, but I think making these things a little shorter could make them easier to digest (and write, lol). I'll probably get the next chapter out sooner than this one, this was just a little something to help satiate your appetites.
> 
> Thanks again to all my readers and follows! Did you like this chapter? Did you hate it? Were you ambivalent? Write a review! Let me know what you guys think, ANY feedback is extremely welcome and very helpful!
> 
> -Kiril


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's me, Cardinal Kiril again! Sorry for the long wait, this one was kind of a bitch to write. I hope you guys end up liking it!
> 
> Quick shout out and thanks to all the people who like/read/follow/reviewed my story thus far! It really means a lot to me that so many of you are enjoying the humor and drama that I set forth.
> 
> Without further ado, let's get back to The Gauntlet!

"…Sound good?"

Everybody nodded.

"Great. Let's go."

Makoto watched Akira and the rest of the boys walk down one of the diverging tunnels of Mementos. Within a few seconds, their forms were entirely swallowed up by the dense fog and oppressive shadow of the Metaverse.

Makoto was on the verge of screaming. Going to Mementos and beating the shit out of shadows was the one thing she was actually looking forward to this entire day, and now she couldn't even do that.

She took a deep breath.  _Well, at least I get to spend a good chunk of my time with my friends._  Her present life was so drastically different from how it was previously that she could hardly believe she was even the same person. Was it really only a few months ago when she was struggling to even have normal conversations with people without intimidating them, let alone make any friends? Everybody viewed her as the teacher's pet busybody; any attempts at interaction were often met with suspicion or general disinterest. Her fellow student council members were… fine, but they rarely had a reason to meet outside of school. The only thing they all shared in common was their studiousness. Other than that, they had no shared interests, and striking up conversations with any of them for extended periods of time could be grueling.

But now, everything was different.  _I have FRIENDS_ , Makoto often thought to herself.  _Fucking FRIENDS! I have people who I love, and they love me back!_  Despite having to risk her life on a nearly daily basis, the Metaverse was the best thing that ever happened to the girl. The bonds she had formed were powerful, and she felt herself growing out of her old shell with each passing day.

What really boggled her mind was how those bonds weren't just with her girlfriends, but with boys too. Makoto had always felt more comfortable in the presence of women than with men, especially when puberty started and many of the boys she spent most of her childhood with transformed into horny douchebags right before her eyes. Upon joining the Phantom Thieves, she believed that most of her time would be spent with Ann, and she would only get to know the boys through her. But before she could even realize what happened, Makoto found herself hanging out with Sakamoto ( _Sakamoto_  of all people!) alone, all by herself, having a great time watching him struggle with a videogame at the arcade and getting a beef bowl afterwards. There was something so sincere, so simple and admirable about Ryuji's doofishness. He never felt the need to filter his feelings or hide what he truly felt, unlike Makoto, who still had a hard time asserting herself.

Shortly after that, Kitagawa noticed her studying by herself at LeBlanc and practically begged her to let him paint her, mentioning something about how her natural expression and posture, as well as the café's warm glow, allowed her to "radiate the image of a true scholar," as he put it. Thanks to her studies and generally curious nature, Makoto knew a thing or two about art history and theory, which allowed her and Yusuke to find common ground and spend hours picking each other's brains, talking about their favorite artists and paintings, or Makoto showing him some screenshots from her favorite movies on her phone, detailing their cinematographic brilliance.

Out of the four boys, however, the strongest bond Makoto had was with Morgana. One day, Morgana sulked up to her and ask if he could stay the night at her and Sae's apartment, giving a succinct "'cuz Akira's a fucking asshole" as his explanation. She snuck the cat into her room (which proved to be very easy, since Sae often worked overtime) and spent the night chatting with him while doing her homework or cooking. Their conversation began with basic things: school, the Metaverse, their friends, weird shit that Morgana found while dumpster diving. But as the night wore on, the cat's topics of interest became more personal, his answers more sincere, his willingness to open up to the girl increasing. Talking to Morgana was such a strange experience: Makoto would never have guessed that a somewhat arrogant, talking cat could be so sensitive and vulnerable. It was as if being alone with a girl flipped some kind of switch inside of him. Morgana stopped his confident façade and spilled out his insecurities. His fear of never becoming human, his desire to be loved by somebody, his constant, overwhelming need to justify his membership in the Phantom Thieves.

But those insecurities were nothing compared to the mental demon that kept gnawing away at Morgana's psyche, which was his crippling, deep-seated sense of loneliness. There was nobody in the world who was like him, nobody he could relate to or share his burdens with. All of his friends were human: they had their own problems to deal with, but at least they knew who and what they were, and had fellow humans around them at all times who were going through similar problems in their lives. But where could Morgana find another human-turned-cat? Or even a cat that he could have a basic conversation with, for that matter? He tried his absolute best to keep a straight face, to stop his voice from hitching as he kept talking. He turned his head, trying to hide his watering eyes from his friend, silently berating himself for showing such weakness to a girl. In doing so, however, he inadvertently caught sight of himself in Makoto's mirror. He stared at his form, and his blue, alien, feline eyes stared right back at him. It was then that Morgana completely broke down.

He shivered and cried, unable to stop the tears from coming out. At that moment, Makoto realized how much intimacy males needed in their lives, but how scared they were of showing it to their closest friends, afraid of being labeled unmanly or weak. She could tell that these thoughts were building inside of him for a very long time, but he never vocalized them until that day. The worst part was that he was right: no matter how hard they tried, Morgana's fellow Phantom Thieves could never truly understand what he experienced on a daily basis, could never truly connect with him on such a deep, fundamental level. The realization brought a tear to the girl's eye. She set down her pencil, walked over to the weeping cat, and gently squeezed him against her body, not caring if his cat-snot and tears got on her school uniform. She knew that she couldn't fix his problems. But the least she could do was help him through them, reassuring him with her presence.

After that night, Morgana and Makoto decided that allowing the cat to stay the night on a more regular basis would be a good idea. Akira didn't seem to mind, anyway.

_Akira…_

Did Akira ever feel like that? He had to, there was a tremendous amount of pressure on him at all times, and those false rumors everybody kept spouting at school must have left their mark after a while. But if the leader had a vulnerable side, he certainly didn't show it, generally being calm and collected, even when times got desperate.

Thinking about Akira just made her frustrated. Why couldn't she connect with him? Why was she on such good terms with everybody on the team, but not him? It wasn't like she didn't try to reach out to him, but her attempts were often met with neutral, unenthusiastic responses from the boy.  _Hell, he just avoided my question and ran to the bathroom when I asked him if he wanted to go see that movie with me_ , she thought.  _I owe so much to that guy. Why is it so hard for me to understand him? Why does it always feel like there's such a huge barrier between us?_

She quickly shook her head and dispelled those thoughts, focusing at the task at hand. "Alright, girls. You heard Joker. Let's quickly get through this tunnel and see if we can find any treasure."

Ann and Futaba nodded in affirmation. Makoto began to walk into the tunnel, before she noticed Haru staring off into the tunnel where the boys disappeared into. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, her gaze simply holding still on that dark area. She didn't reply to Makoto's previous order, either, clearly lost in thought.

Upon moving closer to her, Makoto noticed something else. Her friend was  _crimson_ , and had a goofy, cartoony grin that spread from ear to ear.

"Um… Haru?"

"Hmmmmmmmm~?" Haru turned her head to face Makoto, but it was clear that she was still in her own little world, looking  _through_  Makoto rather than  _at_ her.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Uh-huh."

"What did I say?"

"I dunno."

 _Holy shit_.

"Haru, we need to start exploring, okay?"

"'Kay." Haru turned her head back to the tunnel, and let out a long, deep sigh, pressing her clasped-together hands against her cheek. "God, he is so hot."

Makoto's head reeled back slightly. "Woah! What?"

Haru's eyes suddenly widened. She gasped so quickly she nearly choked on her own breath. "N-Nothing! I didn't say anything! Let's, uh, let's get moving, yeah?"

But Makoto's expression didn't change. She stared at Haru as if she grew a second head. Makoto heard Ann snicker behind her. "Wow, great way to break the news to everyone, Haru-chan."

"Eh? What news? Sorry, I was zoning out there for a bit," Futaba said.

"Nothing! I didn't say anything, can we please just go?"

Ann's snickers had developed into a full-blown giggle fit. "You made such a big deal about me keeping it a secret!" She raised her voice to match Haru's normal pitch. "Ann-chan, if you tell ANYONE about this I'll throw you in front of a train! Bwahahaha!"

"Tell anybody what?" Futaba asked. "What're you talking about? Makoto, what're they talking about?"

"It's nothing!" Haru's face was still a deep shade of red, but now she was sweating profusely. "Futaba, I misspoke, that's all. I'm telling you, I didn't say anything!"

Futaba ignored her friend's pleas and looked at Makoto, deciding to find her answer there. But the older girl kept looking at Haru, still at shock at what she heard.

Noticing this, Haru quickly bounded up to Makoto. "Mako-chan, tell her! Tell her it was nothing, okay?"

"Oh, my, God."

"Mako-chan!"

"OH MY GOD!"

"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Haru fell on her knees, covered her ears with both hands, and started humming. "HHHMMMM HMM HMMMM, HHHHHHHM!"

Makoto turned to Ann. The blonde was also on the ground, in tears from her unrestrained laughter. Makoto looked back at Futaba, who was visibly pissed for being let out of the loop for so long. "Haru has a crush on one of the guys," Makoto said.

"WHAT?" Futaba also reeled back a little. "How do you know?"

"She called one of them hot while swooning."

"Shit!" Futaba thought about this for a few seconds, but then broke into laughter as well. "Oh, this is great! Who is it? Who?"

"I don't know." They turned to Ann, who was recovering from laughing so much. "Ann?"

The taller girl sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. "Well, don't ask me. Get it from the source!" She walked over to the still-humming Haru, whose eyes were clenched shut.

"Haru."

"HMMM HMMM MMHHMHMM."

"Haru."

"MMMHHMHM MMMMM HMHMHMM."

"HARU!" Ann gave her side a little kick, startling the girl enough to crane her head up and look her in the eyes. "The jig's up. You want me to tell them, or you?"

Haru was pensive. She looked at the three girls, pleading with her eyes to let her escape. Realizing it was no use, she sighed and stood up.

"Fine. I will come clean. I'm not afraid to admit it. But let me just say!" She took an aggressive stance and pointed an accusatory finger at each of her friends. "You three are extremely rude and very, very nosey! You have some nerve making me admit something as private, as personal as this! Why, if any of you were in my position and said you misspoke, as I did, then I would have simply let it be and respected your secrets. I am astonished that my so-called friends can't take a hint and realize that some matters are too personal for such open discussion. In fact, I would have told all three of you, eventually, because I trust all of you. But now I see that my trust was misplaced! Some friends you all are. When I joined the Phantom Thieves, I expected to form unbreakable bonds of trust with all of you, I expected my time hunting shadows and exploring palaces would allow us to have a deeper understanding of each other. But no, I suppose not. I realize now that my 'friends' are more interested in spreading dirty, uninformed gossip about me than actually being my comrades. Can I even call you my friends anymore? Friends do not stab each other in the back like this, that is for sure! Perhaps, PERHAPS, one day, I shall forgive you three for doing this to me, and maybe, just MAYBE, I MIGHT start to consider thinking of you all as friends again. But as it stands, you all have betrayed me! You betrayed my trust, you betrayed by feelings, and you betrayed me as fellow Phantom Thieves. You all should be ashamed of yourselves! Forcing a young, sheltered girl, whose father (I repeat, her FATHER) just died a horrible, brutal, violent death not more than a month ago, making her reveal such intimate, private thoughts such as this. It's sickening! It's so sickening, I can barely stand to look at you three! Why, I remember when I was still in junior high school, there was a girl who-"

"Haru's in love with Akira."

"ANN, YOU LITTLE SLUT!"

It took every ounce of Makoto's and Futaba's strength to hold Haru back and prevent her from clawing at Ann's face. Despite the fact that Haru was foaming at the mouth in anger, Ann didn't seem the least bit intimidated, having returned to the ground, laughing her ass off all over again.

Makoto was barely registering what was happening. Despite only really knowing Haru for a few weeks, the two girls were classmates for a very long time. There were times where she noticed Haru getting bullied or made fun of, as far back as middle school, in fact. But, as far as Makoto could tell, Haru had the endurance of a brick wall, despite her cute, unassuming demeanor. Haru never gave anybody the pleasure of seeing her annoyed, bothered, or offended, no matter what they said. She NEVER heard Haru swear. She NEVER heard Haru raise her voice, whether in anger or out of necessity. And she certainly never, EVER, not in a million years, EVER believed that Haru could get violent. And yet, here she was, screaming at the top of her lungs for Ann's blood, swearing up and down that she will not rest until the she throws the blond off of the peak of Mt. Everest, feeds her remains to a pack of wild hogs, slaughters said hogs, minces them up in a huge grinder, shoots the remains into the moon, and finally destroys said moon with a nuclear warhead. For such a seemingly polite, unbreakable, stalwart girl, Haru had a vicious imagination, and one of the dirtiest mouths Makoto had ever heard.

It took a while for Haru to finally calm down. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, took several deep, long, full breaths, and remained silent for two entire minutes, her face remaining completely emotionless. Finally, she opened her eyes back up, and looked at her three friends, all of them gazing curiously at her, unsure if they should be prepared for another assault. But instead of breaking into hysterics again, the girl sighed and looked at the ground in shame.

"I am so, so, so sorry that happened. Ann-chan, I do not deserve your forgiveness." She bowed deeply towards the blonde. "Please don't hate me."

Ann chuckled at this and held Haru by her shoulder, gently rubbing her back. "Oh my God, Haru, shut up. I was being a jerk to you, I probably would have reacted the same way." She gave the girl a big hug.

They stood like that for a few seconds, until they finally released each other.

"Thank you, Ann-chan," Haru said. She looked down at her feet, still visibly ashamed at her display a few moments earlier.

A few moments of silence passed. Makoto did feel somewhat irresponsible. She shouldn't have let Haru's sudden reveal take up so much of their time. They could have explored their part of the floor by now. But Makoto knew that just leaving this sort of thing undiscussed was a bad idea. Talking things out with her teammates was something that needed to be done, and was far more important than scavenging around an empty Mementos floor looking for useless treasure.

"So…" Makoto began. "Akira, huh?"

Haru nodded. "Please don't tell him, okay?"

Futaba made an offended scoff. "Who d'you think we are? We would never do that to a friend! Your secret's safe with…"

Futaba trailed off. She cringed. "Ewww!"

"What? Futaba, what's wrong?"

"Ugh, I just realized, you like  _Akira_." Futaba shuddered. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand you at all, girl."

"Futaba!" Ann scolded her. "What's wrong with you? You can't just say that about somebody's crush, it's offensive!"

"You don't understand," Futaba said. "It's weird, but Akira is like the older brother I never had. Even thinking about anything remotely sexual or romantic about him just feels like some kind of taboo. And hearing my friend having a crush on the guy… uggh."

"Well, Futaba," Haru said, smiling. "I'm not offended at all, and I perfectly understand where you are coming from. But I am quite sorry that you see Akira that way. I, for one, think he is  _very_  handsome." She gave a dreamy sigh. "And SO dashing…"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Futaba moaned. "Hold on. Weren't you just roasting him a few minutes ago for being late?"

Haru giggled at that. "I suppose that's my way of showing boys I like them. Even when I was little I would boss them around and try to get them to push back. My little quirk, I suppose."

This was an entirely unexpected turn of events for Makoto. Aside from Morgana making it very, VERY clear that he wanted to bury his cat dick inside of Ann's panther-hole, she never expected any of the Phantom Thieves to start crushing on one another. Her curiosity forced her to learn more details about this.

"What exactly do you see in him, Haru? When did you start liking him?"

"Oh, probably the very microsecond I first laid eyes on him," Haru said. "I kept hearing stories about this dangerous delinquent running around Shujin, but he wasn't what I expected at all. He's always just so  _cool_ , so in control. And when I first saw him in his Metaverse outfit as Joker, giving us orders and guiding us through my father's palace…" Haru started blushing again. "You have no idea how much I like it when he gives orders and takes command. He's so manly!"

"Oh, please," Futaba groaned. "The guy's such a goofball! You should see him lose his shit when I kick his ass in Street Fighter. You'll have a very different opinion of your dreamboat, I'm sure."

"Well, I think it's super cute," Ann said. "When Haru told me about her crush, I thought it made perfect sense! And come on, Futaba, I know you see him as a brother, but you have to admit, Akira's a pretty good-looking guy."

"Bleh." Futaba turned to Makoto. "C'mon, Queen. Back me up here."

Makoto didn't really know what to say. She wanted to say that she was happy that Haru found someone she liked, and her superego kept telling her that the socially correct thing to do would be to wish Haru luck on getting her man. But instead, Makoto felt… nothing.

 _So,_  she thought.  _Haru likes Akira. I wonder if he likes her back? He probably does, why wouldn't he?_

Something about this felt wrong to Makoto, but she couldn't tell what. She felt that  _something_  was supposed to happen, or should have happened a while ago, but never did. It was like she was missing a crucial puzzle piece, and no matter how hard she looked, it couldn't be found. Did she disapprove of Haru liking Akira? That might be it, but why would she? Haru was a wonderful person who deserved somebody to make her happy, and that person might as well be Akira, right? And the more she thought about it, the more the match made sense. They were both kind, considerate, level-headed people who preferring talking things through and being patient, rather than rushing headfirst into a situation. They have pretty good synergy on the battlefield, and Akira seemed to enjoy spending time with Haru, whether it was gardening, exploring a park, seeing a movie. And its not like one was totally out of the league of the other; Haru was beautiful, no doubt, and Akira was a pretty good match for her, at least in the looks department.

_Woooahhh, okay. Stop, stop, stop._

It was true, Makoto did find Akira rather attractive, but who wouldn't? She found Yusuke and Ryuji to be attractive too, but that didn't mean she had a crush on them, right? No, Makoto decided a long time ago that she certainly did  _not_  feel that way about Akira. The spark wasn't there, the connection was flat. It didn't help that almost every interaction she had with the boy was so one-sided, so painfully awkward, like she was the only one trying to pull things along, him simply existing next to her. He was her friend… and not even a close one. Makoto really hated to admit it, but she had to face the facts. Were it not for the fact that she just happened to join the Phantom Thieves, Makoto and Akira wouldn't even be acquaintances, let alone friends. And it was such a shame, too, because Makoto respected Akira and valued his qualities. When she first got to know him, she was sure that they would become fast friends, finding a lot in common with his responsible nature and intelligence. Her expectations were practically confirmed when she realized that he loved movies as much as she did, probably even more. But no matter what they did together, it just felt so forced, so unnatural. Nothing that went under the skin, nothing that got the two to talk and actually learn about one another, like how talking to friends should be. It was ridiculous: she managed to have deeper, more heartfelt and insightful conversations with a horny, talking cat than with the leader of her group. Something about this didn't add up, it just didn't make any sense. But, try as she might, the only answer that satisfied this dilemma was the simple admittance that Akira Kurusu and Makoto Niijima were never meant to be anything more than teammates.

"Yeah, he's cute," Makoto said. "I hope he likes you back, Haru-chan."

Haru sighed again. "I don't know. I'm kind of doubtful. What if he doesn't think I'm pretty?"

To that, Ann let out a very loud guffaw. "HAH! You're kidding, right? Haru, girl, boys can't stop drooling over you, and Akira is no diff-"

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of someone yelling.

"GUYS! Queen, Oracle! Noir, Panther! Where are you?!"

The four girls immediately stopped what they were doing and turned to the direction of the voice. It was Ryuji's, and it was coming from the very same tunnel the boys disappeared into.

Makoto sprung into action. "Oracle, scan the tunnel. Panther, get ready to heal."

"On it! Skull and the others are a few hundred feet away and they're gaining on us. I don't see a-" Futaba paused. "Fuck."

"What?" Makoto looked at the younger girl. "What is it?"

"We need to get out of this place, now!"

But before Futaba could finish her sentence, the boys appeared before them. Yusuke and Morgana seemed fine. Makoto noticed that they were walking with a slight, uncomfortable limp, and she could barely detect what appeared to be a wince on their faces whenever they took a step, but she paid it little mind. The girls' attentions were focused on Ryuji, and the fact that the boy was holding their unconscious leader in his arms.

"REAPER!" Ryuji screamed. "The Reaper is coming, the Reaper is coming!"

 _Motherfucker!_ Makoto screamed to herself.  _How could I be so careless? How long have we just been sitting here and talking about stupid crushes? I put Joker's life on the line because of my incompetence, and I didn't even account for the Reaper. Some second-in-command I am!_

"Mona!" Makoto screamed. "Why haven't you turned into a bus yet? Get us out of here!"

"I can't!" The cat protested. "It's not working for some reason! This entire floor is completely fucked, nothing is working the way it should!"

Makoto grit her teeth.  _Think! Think!_

"We're about four hundred feet away from the entrance of this floor. Once we get a level above, we can try the bus again. Oracle, Panther, Noir, Mona, I want speed buffs on all of us, and make sure you guys heal any damage we might sustain. Skull, you go ahead. Fox, you and I are covering the rear. Move!"

They made a break for it, covering a surprising amount of ground in a very short amount of time. It wasn't long, however, before Futaba spoke up.

"The Reaper is gaining on us! We aren't gonna make it!"

"Shut up and keep moving!" Makoto ordered. She could hear the monster's moans from the tunnels, becoming louder and louder with every passing second.

The exit to the floor came into view, becoming closer and closer with every step.  _We can make it!_  Makoto thought.  _We can do this! We can-_

Her optimism was cut short. Before she could even realize what was happening, the Reaper bounded over them and landed right in front of the exit, blocking their only chance of survival.

Without a moment's rest, the Reaper gave a loud, deafening roar, and raised its pistols at the group.

Makoto's heart stopped. She didn't want this to be the end. She didn't want to die here, in Mementos.  _I am so, so stupid_ , she thought. She gave her unconscious leader one last look.  _I'm sorry, Akira. I failed you, and I failed the Phantom Thieves._

She closed her eyes.  _God, if you're real, let me see my father. I don't care if you send me to the deepest, coldest, blackest parts of hell. Please, let me speak to my father one last time._

Her body loosened. She was ready for death.

* * *

But, something happened.

Or, rather, something  _didn't_  happen.

She expected the Reaper's gunshot to be the next (and last) thing she would hear. But instead, ten seconds went by, with… nothing. She opened her eyes. The Reaper was still there, but his guns were no longer raised. He simply… stared at them.

Makoto wanted to take this opportunity to come up with another plan, but her mind was blank. Her body refused to move. She was staring at the embodiment of Death, and it stared right back at her and her friends.  _What the hell is going on?_

And then, the Reaper did something completely unexpected. It took a while for Makoto to register what was happening, but there it was. It leaned over to the Phantom Thieves and  _sniffed_  them. Or, rather, he sniffed Ryuji and Akira, who was still unconscious. Then he leaned over and sniffed Morgana, and then Yusuke. The boys were as astonished as Makoto was, their mouths agape and bodies shaking in petrified fear.

The Reaper seemed to finish his sniffing. He did nothing but look at them for a long,  _long_  time, every passing second feeling like an eternity.

And then he started to laugh.

Makoto slapped herself as hard as she possibly could. A huge, painful red mark was left on her cheek. The Reaper's laughs became louder, and more animate. She slapped her other cheek, leaving another mark. But the Reaper kept laughing.

And laughing.

And laughing.

And laughing.

He fell on his knees and started hitting the ground with his fist, holding his stomach through his full, sincere laughs.

Makoto was sure that she had gone completely insane.

After a few more minutes of this, the Reaper stood back up, letting his last few giggles out.

And then he spoke.

"Wow," he chuckled. "Okay. Wow. He really did it to you guys, huh?"

He picked up his guns from the ground, dusted himself off, and walked back into the depths of the tunnel.

The Phantom Thieves stood there in silence.

 _I think I'm gonna start vising that church on my way to school,_ Makoto thought.

_Yeah. That sounds like a good idea._

* * *

Akira sat quietly at the edge of the patient bed in Tae's clinic. His friends, who had just explained what had happened with the Reaper, were also quiet, letting the situation at hand sink-in. They were all preoccupied with their own thoughts, trying to leverage their recent brush with death.

Akira looked up at Yusuke. The artist met his gaze, and Akira winked. Yusuke gave him a quick nod.

By the time he reunited with his friends in Tae's clinic, Akira had already mentally prepared a million different lies he could tell the girls so that they wouldn't know about his, Yusuke's, Ryuji's, and Morgana's predicament. Luckily, his fellow masturbation addicts were already prepared.

"So," Akira finally said. "How did I get knocked out in the first place? I have NO memory of anything attacking us."

He put on his best 'I have no idea what just happened, honest!' face. If there was one thing that Akira had learned in his short, virgin life, it was that feigning stupidity was a great way to get yourself out of actually having to put in effort, or an awkward situation.

"The Reaper came out of nowhere and attacked you, leader," Yusuke said. "We were lucky to have stunned him for a while, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to escape."

"This is crazy," said Ann. "We've encountered the Reaper before, but that was only after we spent a long time on the same floor. We were talking for like, what? Fifteen minutes?"

"It has to have something to do with that floor in particular," Morgana said. "I couldn't even turn into a car! That whole place is just so weird. Once we were able to move up a floor, I could get us out of there no problem."

"Imagine," Yusuke said, "how horrible it would have been if we had to run around looking for the girls while trying to escape him. We would have surely been killed!"

"Yeah, we were really lucky you girls were so close to the entrance," Akira said. Something crossed his mind, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the four girls. "Wait a sec, why were you guys so close to the entrance anyway? You hadn't started exploring the floor yet?"

"Oh! Uhhh…" Ann rubbed the back of her sheepishly and tried to avert her eyes from Akira's. "Well, like I said, we were talking."

"Uh huh. What about?"

"Oh, you know! School stuff, and, uh, strategies for fighting shadows. Reaallly important stuff we needed to get sorted out before we started exploring. Yep!" Ann put on the biggest smile she could.

"Oh brother…" Futaba mumbled. "Not this shit again."

 _You said it, sister,_  Akira thought.  _Ann's a great model, but a terrible actress._

"Look, I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, but we were supposed to split up so we could explore the floor faster. I totally understand if you were talking about something important enough to postpone exploring, but if it's that crucial then you could at least tell me what it is."

"W-well, that's…" Ann trailed off. Akira knew that he would only get more half-baked lies from her. He looked at Futaba and Makoto, who were trying their best to appear focused on staring at Tae's medical equipment. Haru, on the other hand, managed to press herself up into a little corner of the room, staring at her feet. She was burying her face against her hands and was shaking uncontrollably.

Akira put on his leader voice. "Haru."

The girl gave a tiny squeak and looked up from the ground. "Y-yes Akira-chan?"

 _Oh here we go._ Akira grinned.  _Haru's incapable of lying. Let's get to the bottom of this._

"What were you girls talking about back there?" Akira asked in the calmest, most Chad voice he could. "Anything that would interest me?"

That seemed to have a strong effect on the girl. Haru's face turned completely red, and her shaking became more erratic.

Akira started to become nervous for her. "H-hey, if you guys really don't want to tell me, you don't ha-"

"MAKOTO LIKES A GUY AT OUR SCHOOL AND WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THAT OKAY? IT'S REALLY REALLY PERSONAL AND SHE DIDN'T WANT ANYBODY ELSE TO KNOW SO THAT'S WHY WE WERE KEEPING IT FROM YOU SO LET'S JUST DROP IT NOW OKAY?" Haru gasped for air and started breathing heavily.

The rest of the Phantom Thieves were all shocked at this and gasped at the nearly hyperventilating girl. Save, however, for Makoto herself. She calmly turned her head, made eye contact with Haru, and shot her the most neutral, unreadable expression Akira had ever seen.

Recovering somewhat, Haru gave a nervous chuckle. "S-sorry about revealing your, uh, your secret, Mako-chan." She gave her a big, but desperate smile. "But, uh, at least your  _secret's_  safe with  _us_. Right? Ma-ko- _chaaaan_?" Haru returned Makoto's stare as best as she could, her eyes pleading with hers.

Makoto's plain expression gave way to a single, tiny twitch under her left eye. "I don't know,  _Haru-chan_." Despite barely inflecting her voice at all, Makoto somehow managed to make every syllable sound like acid. "Maybe this  _secret_  isn't all that important after all, and maybe I should just  _say it_  right  _here_  and  _right now_  in front of all of our  _friends_."

"OOOOOH, BUT MAKO-CHAN!" Haru was almost screaming again at this point. She grabbed Makoto by the shoulders, doing her best to not appear threatening to the others. "IF YOU DO THAT THEN THAT'LL RUIN THE SANCTITY OF OUR GIRL TALK. AND WE DON'T WANT THOSE BOYS TO KNOW OUR LITTLE SECRETS, RIGHT? IF WE DID, THEN BAD, BAD THINGS WOULD HAPPEN, RIGHT? HAH. HAH HAH HAH HAH."

Even with Haru's pathetic attempts at trying to laugh, Makoto refused to break eye contact with the frenzied girl. "Okay, Haru- _chan_ ," Makoto said, poison in her voice. "How about we talk more about this later before we make any  _rash_  and  _stupid_  decisions." Makoto produced a smile of her own, but it had some terrifying quality that made Haru's face pale. "Alone. After school. Tomorrow. Sound good?"

Haru swallowed. "Y-yes."

Ryuji leaned over to Yusuke and whispered in his ear. "I think I just shit my pants."

Yusuke nodded. "Indeed. Women are insane," he whispered back. "Let's get out of here before Makoto strangles Haru to death."

"Fuck no, I wanna see that!" Morgana jumped on Ryuji's back and joined the whisper conversation. "Cat fights turn me the fuck on!"

"They turn me on too. That's why we need to leave," Yusuke replied. "Akira, let's get out of here."

Akira, however, did not reply. He was still sitting, his fingers digging into his knees.

"Akira?"

_FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!_

In the Velvet Room, Akira was convinced that things could not get worse for him. After all, what could possibly be worse than not masturbating for a month? But now, he realized how naïve he truly was.

Akira had spent many a long, sleepless night thinking about Makoto, sometimes without even tugboating his willy. And every time, one damning, niggling thought always came to mind.

_What if she likes somebody else? What if she likes Ryuji? Or Yusuke? Or some guy I don't know?_

Akira realized that whether or not Makoto liked another boy was a bit of a moot point, since the young masturbation addict was way too much of a pussy to make a move on her, even if he was 100% sure she felt the same way about him. But the thought of her being with someone else… The thought of her holding some guy's hand in public, laughing at his jokes, blushing whenever he teased her, the thought of her  _kissing_  someone else,  _pressing her body against someone else's, HAVING SEX WITH SOMEBODY ELSE!_

_FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!_

Who did she have a crush on? Who? Was he handsome? More handsome than Akira? Was he tall? Taller than Akira? Makoto's a pretty girl. No, fuck that, Makoto's GORGEOUS, and extremely intelligent, and captivating, and seductive, and wonderful, and mesmerizing. She couldn't just have a crush on some average Joe on the street. He would HAVE to be handsome, he would HAVE to be tall. Probably athletic too, and gets really good grades at school. How could Akira compare to that? Why did he think a stupid, ugly, short loser like him could ever have a chance with girl like her?

_FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFU-_

"Akira?"

He was driven out of his thoughts by Yusuke's hand gently shaking his shoulder.

"It's getting late," Yusuke said. "We should probably head back home and discuss this more some other time. Do you agree, leader?"

Akira didn't notice that he was spacing out. Luckily, it didn't seem all that long: the girls were wrapped up in their own conversation. From what Akira could tell, Ann was begging a rather unconvinced Makoto not to lace Haru's drink with cyanide in retaliation for the little drama the fluffy-haired girl caused. Futaba, on the other hand, was hard at work on her laptop trying to find a suitable lawyer to write Haru's will. Haru herself sat on one of the chairs, and looked relieved for some reason, despite the very likely prospect that her life may end shorty.

It didn't take long for Akira to notice this opportunity. "Okay, sorry to pester you guys about this," Akira said. "Didn't mean to cause such a stir. Look, it's late, and we've got school tomorrow. Let's meet up some other time when we're not busy and talk this through then, okay?"

"Uh, why don't you guys go on ahead without us?" Ann said. "We… still have some things we need to talk over, ha ha."

Akira shrugged his shoulders. "Go ahead, I don't give a shit," he said, in a voice that tried very VERY hard to hide the fact that he did indeed give many a shit. "C'mon guys, let's go."

The four males were about to exit the clinic, but Akira remembered something at the last minute.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Where's Takemi-san? I need to thank her for keeping me here."

"We managed to get here right before she was about to close up for the day," Futaba said. "She examined you real quick and said you were fine, but she insisted that you visit her tomorrow for a check-up."

"Akira!" Morgana whispered in his hear. "We're gonna see sexy doctor lady tomorrow!"

" _I'm_ gonna to see sexy doctor lady tomorrow,  _you_  are staying home," Akira whispered back. "Now shut up." He turned back to the girls. "See you guys!"

Right as they were about to leave, Ryuji stuck his head back in.

"Good luck with your crush, Mako-chan!"

Akira grabbed him by the collar and yanked him out into the street.

* * *

The four boys, of course, were lying through their teeth. They never intended to go straight home after escaping the wrath of those gorgons. Instead, they found themselves sitting in a booth at Café Leblanc. Sojiro had already closed up shop and went home, so the four were able to talk, undisturbed.

For a while, nobody said anything. Finally, Morgana spoke up.

"Whelp, I dunno about you guys, but this day was completely fucked," he said. "I'm gonna go take a quick power fap, don't wait up for me!"

Right before he was about to hop off the table and run back to his cum-soaked pothole, Akira grabbed him by the neck and threw him back into the booth. "Morgana, no. Don't be an idiot."

"The hell d'you mean? We had a really long, stressful day, full of Reapers and Mementos and shit. Why can't I bust a quick nut or two to take the edge off?"

"Morgana, you can't be serious," Yusuke said.

"Yeah you stupid cat, if you bust a nut you're gonna lose your dick, remember?" Ryuji said. "Don't you remember what that guy said?"

"What?" Morgana asked. "Are you guys really this stupid? That guy was a shadow! A product of the Metaverse! He can only hurt us in palaces and Mementos. He's nothing but a cognition. All this crap about No Nut November only affects us in the Metaverse, and I dunno about you freaks, but I don't plan on masturbating there anytime soon."

Akira hadn't thought of this. What Morgana said made a lot of sense. A shadow could do any number crazy things to them, but once they returned to the real world, any curses, spells, or debuffs disappeared.

Akira could feel a rush of dopamine in his brain.  _That means I can nut! Thank you, God! I always knew you were real!_

_But wait… If No Nut November is only in effect in the Metaverse, then why did Igor make such a big deal out of it in the Velvet Room? Wouldn't he have told me about it?_

Akira shook his head and dispelled such negative thoughts.

 _Nahhh! It's fine! Morgana's right, that asshole was just another shadow like the rest of them._ Akira looked down at his crotch and smiled.  _Ohhhhh, my old friend. As soon as these guys fuck off back to their homes, we shall be reunited._  He could almost hear his cock screaming in agony, realizing that its beating would resume shortly.

Yusuke and Ryuji looked excited as well.

"Of course!" the artist exclaimed. "I didn't even consider that! Thank heavens, too. I knew that if I had to go a month without masturbating I would probably go insane."

"WOOHOO I GETTA JERK OFF!" cried Ryuji. "I'm gonna pull an all-nighter to celebrate, and I ain't talkin' about studying!"

Morgana smiled and shook his head. "Where would you guys be without me? No Nut November, you can kiss my ass! And you know what? I just realized something. If there was a curse on our dicks that prevented us from masturbating, wouldn't we have all felt something? My dick feels perfectly fine! I don't feel cursed at all, y'know?"

"Yeah, me neither," Ryuji said. "That jackass was all show and no go."

"Hold on," Yusuke said. "Isn't it technically still October 31st? Akira, what time is it?"

Akira pulled out his phone. His eyes widened. "Oh! It's… 11:58 PM."

A heavy, oppressive silence fell on the room. The mood, which was once so happy and joyous, immediately became grim. Akira could feel his loud heartbeat, it was practically in his ears.

"That, that doesn't mean anything you guys!" Morgana said. He did his best to give out a genuine laugh to lighten the mood, but instead it came off as somewhat nervous. "It's fine. Really! Like I said, shadows can't affect us in real life. That's not how the Metaverse works. Let's all go to bed, and have ourselves a really nice wank, okay?"

"Y-yeah!" Ryuji said. "Yeah, let's not worry about it!" He gulped. "But…"

"But what?"

"I mean, uh… Heh, I know I'm prolly bein' stupid, but like… Maybe we should just wait and see the clock turn to twelve before we go? Like, just to make sure."

"Aww, Ryuji, you're such a pussy! But, uhh…" Morgana trailed off. He rubbed the back of his head. "Since you're so insistent about it, I don't see any harm in just waiting for the hour to pass."

"I think that is a wonderful idea, Ryuji," Yusuke said. "Let's, er… Let's just put this No Nut November nonsense to rest once and for all! Akira, how many more seconds until the hour changes?"

"Fifty."

They said nothing. Despite their earlier optimism, they all stared at Akira's phone. Akira's hand began to shake again.

The seconds ticked by.

Ryuji clenched his jaw tightly, releasing it every few seconds. Yusuke bounced his leg up and down and wrung his hands together.

Thirty seconds.

Morgana bit the back of his paw.

Fifteen seconds.

Akira felt sweat drip from his forehead.

Ten seconds.

Akira's heart kept pounding and pounding.

Five.

Ryuji swallowed.

Four.

Yusuke breathed in.

Three.

Morgana's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. He sunk his teeth into his paw, tighter, tighter, tighter.

Two.

Akira couldn't think. He couldn't blink. He couldn't even breath. Life stopped. Everything became slow, torturous, painful. He felt like he was stepping through a threshold, entering a new world that he should never have entered. For the tiniest, briefest of moments, he regretted everything. He wished he had never stumbled into Kamoshida's palace. He wished he had never met Ryuji or Ann or Morgana. He wished the Phantom Thieves had never been formed. He only wanted his regular, normal life back.

One.

_God help me._

* * *

Twelve o'clock.

Midnight.

November 1st.

The first day of No Nut November had begun.

* * *

All four boys let out a breath that none of them realized they were even holding. Their bodies relaxed.

"See!" Morgana said. "Nothin' to worry about! You guys were so scared!"

"Aww, look who's talkin'!" Ryuji pointed at Morgana's paw. "You bit your paw so hard it bled!"

"Oh! Uh, heh heh, guess I didn't notice."

"Well, I for one am relieved beyond words," Yusuke sighed. "I felt like I was going to have a heart attack!"

"Looks like everything worked out in the end," Akira said. "God, I am SO glad I don't have to do this shit. I felt like a huge weight was taken off my shoulders." He stretched and breathed in deeply. "Ah! I'm so happy and worry-free!"

"I feel ya, dude!" Ryuji said. "And hey! Maybe you're the guy that Makoto is crushing on!"

Akira fell into despair.

"Oh, FUCK!" he cried. "Goddamnit, Ryuji. I was in such a good mood and you just had to remind me of that shit."

"Oh, uh, sorry," the blond replied. "But, like, I'm sure that you're the one she likes! I don't really see her hanging out with any other guys at school." He thought for a moment. "At least, I don't  _think_  she does…"

Akira groaned and pulled his hair. "Shut uuuuuppp…"

"The retard is right," Morgana said. "Just because you're a loser who spends all of his time masturbating doesn't mean that you can't get a super hot bombshell like Makoto into you. I mean, it's extremely unlikely, and your desire to fuck her is so strong that she can probably smell it off of you, and she's most likely very well aware how often you beat your meat to the thought of her, but, you know, it's still possible!"

Morgana sat on the edge of the table, already prepared to jump away for Akira's inevitable assault on his person. Much to the cat's surprise, however, this did not come. Instead of strangling Morgana to death, Akira slammed his head against the table, dug his fingers further into his hair, and moaned.

Akira hated to admit it, but everything Morgana said was true. It was a hard, bitter truth, but he had to face the facts and admit that Makoto would never, ever, not in a million years, ever see Akira as anything more than a friend. And why would she? What in the hell did Akira have to offer? She could have anybody she wanted, so why pick him?

His thoughts returned to imagining what the guy she liked must look like. For some reason, the image of Marlon Brando in  _Streetcar Named Desire_  always came to mind first.

 _Yeah_ , Akira thought.  _Kinda like a Japanese Marlon Brando in Streetcar. Cool. Handsome. Muscular. Doesn't give a shit about anyone, does what he wants, when he wants it. Is that the kinda guy Makoto likes? Bad boys? Dudes with an edge? Hm, or maybe some super athletic guy who's perfect at everything? Yeah, a trophy husband sorta guy, with a six pack, broad shoulders, huge dick, can probably fuck like an elephant._

Akira groaned again and stared at his feet, his head pressed against the table.

"H-hey, Akira?" Morgana asked, worriedly. "Hey, you know I was just kidding, right? I was just roasting you! I know you've got a shot with her, we all do."

"That's right, Joker," Yusuke said. He patted Akira's back reassuringly. "Haru never said who Makoto's crush was on, right? So it could very well be you. I would be surprised if it wasn't, honestly."

"Yeah fucking right…" Akira mumbled. He raised his head from the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm fine. It's just been a long day, and I really don't want to talk or think about this tonight. Let's just go to bed for tonight, okay? We have school tomorrow morning."

"Yes, you're probably right." Yusuke yawned and stretched his arms out. "I am absolutely exhausted."

"Yeah, same here," Ryuji said. "C'mon, Yusuke, I'll walk you to the train. Night, guys!"

The two boys stood up and walked out of the café. Before the door closed shut, however, Akira could hear Ryuji's loud voice.

"Oh, hey Makoto! You headin' to the train too?"

Akira's heart skipped a beat.  _That-that's her!_

Akira wanted nothing more than to rush out and talk to her. Even though he knew it was hopeless, he wanted every opportunity he could to spend time with her. But what would he talk to her about? It would be totally awkward if he just rushed out of Leblanc and started talking to her for no reason. He needed to think of an excuse to talk to her, and fast, before she went home.

 _Wait a second…_  Akira's eyes widened.  _Oh FUCK! I am such an idiot!_

He rushed out of the café, leaving behind a puzzled Morgana. Akira looked around the streets of Yongen. His three friends must already be somewhat close to the station, because the street was totally empty. He rushed over to the station, mindful to jump over any potholes and other obstacles on his way over.

Rounding a corner, he could see his friends walking together, chatting lightly on their way to the station.  _There she is._ A grim idea invaded his thoughts.  _Christ, what if she likes one of those two? What would I do in a situation like that?_

He shook his head steeled himself. "H-hey! Makoto!"

The three turned around and noticed Akira standing in the street. Akira could see Makoto's brilliant, red eyes peering out from the darkness, taking the boy in, swallowing him whole with her wonderful, mesmerizing gaze. How the hell did she do that? How could she make him feel this way with just one look? Did she even realize what she did to him? She casted her spell so effortlessly, without even thinking about it, without even noticing.

He gulped without realizing. He walked over to her. He had tunnel vision: everything in his periphery began to blur, except for her. He completely forgot about Ryuji and Yusuke, even though they flanked the girl. Even they, his best friends, did not matter at this moment. All he could see was Makoto, Makoto and her red, red,  _red_  eyes, pulling him closer, and closer, and closer, and closer…

 _There she is_ , Akira thought.  _Queen. My Queen._ He loved her codename. He loved how well it described her, how it so perfectly reflected both who she was as a person and how he felt about her. Makoto. Queen. His Queen. Akira knew in his heart of hearts that he would die for her. He would stop a bullet for that girl. He wanted to serve his Queen. He wanted to honor her, cherish her, pine for her, love her. His heart felt like it would burst at any moment, but still he approached her, wondering how his legs haven't given way yet, how he was still even capable of walking while she just  _looked_  at him like that.

Finally, after those long, horrible, agonizing seconds of walking, Akira found himself face-to-face with Makoto. There she was, her face so perfectly in focus, her body so close to his.

"Hi, Akira-kun," Makoto said. "What's up?"

 _Great, she doesn't look annoyed or creeped out_ , Akira thought.  _Say it! Say it!_

"Er, Ryuji and I should get on the train," Yusuke said. "Makoto, you're taking the north-bound train, correct? We both live towards the west, so we had better get going before the train arrives. Come on, Ryuji."

"Eh? What're you talkin' about? The train ain't comin' for another-"

But Yusuke grabbed the blond boy's arm and led him to the station before he could finish his sentence.

Makoto turned around to face the two leaving boys. "Alright, see you guys later," Makoto called out to them. She turned back to Akira. Much to his surprise, she didn't seem uncomfortable being alone with him. Akira always assumed that his very presence annoyed the girl, and that he needed to justify spending time alone with her. He felt that she would always rather be somewhere else, be talking to someone else, that she would rather be doing  _anything_  else than spending time with him, than talking to him. Akira had no idea why he felt this way; there was no basis for this thought, no evidence to point to Makoto not enjoying his company. But the thought still came, and it worried him to no end.

She stretched her arms out, closed her eyes, and gave a long, yet petite yawn. Akira's heart was on the verge of exploding. How can somebody be this fucking cute? It's criminal!

"Gosh, what a day, huh?" Makoto said. She opened her eyes and locked them with his, making his heart stop again. "Are you feeling alright? You were out cold for a while."

"Yeah, I'm fine."  _Say something! Say something!_  "Honestly, I'm kinda surprised that the Reaper didn't do more damage to me. Guess he isn't so scary after all."

Makoto gave a small giggle. "Yeah, right. I'm sure that our cool and confident Joker could take him on all by himself."

Akira himself chuckled, but his heart still kept up its rapid pace. Hearing her laugh, talking to her, gazing into her eyes, was unlike anything he had experienced before. When she was close by, he felt happy. He felt sad. He felt amazing. He felt insane. He felt like he could rule the world. He felt like a piece of shit on the road. His heart would pound, his hands would begin to sweat. Nothing made sense, but everything was clear at the same time.

_Makoto…_

"So," the girl said. "What did you want to talk about?"

Akira licked his lips. He just realized how dry his mouth was, how bitter it tasted.

"You uh… You said something about watching a movie this weekend? Back at Shibuya station? Sorry for not answering your question before, I was a little, ah… A little distracted."

"That's okay."

"Cool. Yeah. So let's do it. I would love to. Wanna go Saturday afternoon?"

And then, it happened again. With her eyes peering into his, she gave that small, yet genuine, warm, seductive, hypnotizing, dizzying smile. Akira couldn't breathe. His brain couldn't function. Time was thrown out the window. The only thing that existed was Makoto. Makoto, and that smile.

"Great! Sounds good."

She turned around and walked towards the station. She looked behind her shoulder, locking eyes with him one last time. "See you then, Kurusu-kun."

And then she walked off, and disappeared through the streets of Yongen.

Akira stood there for three solid minutes, just staring at nothing. His mind was still processing what just happened.

He blinked. He felt something. Something tight and familiar. He looked down, and could feel his aroused member pressing against his jeans.

_I gotta jerk off!_

He turned around and bounded back to Leblanc.

* * *

Makoto smiled to herself as she stood at the station platform, waiting for her train to arrive. She kept replaying her conversation with Akira in her head. Something seemed different about him. The bored, lifeless, difficult-to-read look that he always had when talking to her was still somewhat there, but there was something else this time too. Anticipation? Excitement? Makoto couldn't tell. That boy was still very much a mystery to her. No matter how hard she tried, she could never get in his head, she could never get a grip on what he was thinking at any given moment.

But regardless, she felt happy.  _So,_ she thought,  _he went out of his way to try to make plans with me. And here I thought he was just trying to avoid hanging out with me. Hm, well, that still might be the case. Maybe he only wanted to see that movie with me out of some sort of obligation?_

The possibility remained, however, that maybe, just maybe, Akira did genuinely want to be friends with her. Maybe she had a chance to finally get to know her leader, to see what he was really like, to understand him as a person. Maybe now he wouldn't feel so much like an alien to her. She knew the chances were small, and she knew that it was all probably in her head, but she was willing to see, willing to give them this one last chance to make a genuine connection, to truly become friends.

The train arrived and began to slow down in front of her. Her smile was paired with a small blush.

_And Haru's got a point. He is pretty cool._

* * *

Akira busted through the door, jumped up the steps to the attic, slammed the door shut, undressed, and hopped on his bed.

_OOOOOHHHH here we go here we go here we go!_

Akira looked around his room quickly. Morgana was nowhere to be found, which was great.  _He's probably cumming in that pothole in the alley right now_ , Akira thought. He shuddered.  _Ew. Think of the task at hand!_

He looked at his chub. He was so happy, so thrilled that he had the privilege of masturbation. He knew that this one was going to be great. It was going to be a big, fat, wonderful nut.

He reached down, and grabbed his dick.

An extremely loud, heavy bass sound reverberated in his room as soon as his hand made contact.

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM**

"What the fuck!?" Akira screamed. He pressed his hands against his ears, trying desperately to block the noise out. The sound was so loud, he was scared that his eardrums might rupture.

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM**

He fell off of his bed and on the ground, sitting with his knees. The sound wouldn't stop, the pain in his ears wouldn't stop. His room became distorted, sickly, reddish-black waves and spirals adorning his walls, his furniture becoming twisted and maligned. A wave of nausea hit him. He knew this feeling. He had felt it before.

_The-the Metaverse! How the hell am I entering the Metaverse?_

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM**

He closed his eyes and kept pressing his hands against his ears. He couldn't think, he couldn't understand what was going on. All he wanted was for the noise to stop, for this torture to end.

Just then, his wish was granted. The horrible bass sound ceased. Akira opened his eyes. What greeted them was not his room, but instead the infinite, mysterious, sickening void of the Metaverse. There were no walls, no floors, just him suspended in the air, held up by nothing.

He heard something behind him. Footsteps?

Slowly, he turned around, and saw a pair of brown boat shoes, connected to two sock-tanned legs.

_Oh no._

He looked up. He saw the pink shorts and matching shirt.

_No…_

He kept raising his head. He saw the watch and clasped-together hands.

_No!_

He saw the thick, bulbous neck.

_NO! FUCK, PLEASE, NO!_

Akira saw him. He saw his smug, stupid face. He saw his black, lifeless eyes. He saw his fixed, permanent smile. He saw him, that god, that demon, that horrible being from Mementos, standing over his kneeling form, looking down at him, his pose and expression exactly the same from when he last saw him in the Metaverse.

"You!" Akira pointed at the guy. "The fuck are you doing here? Take me back to my room, now! You don't have any power over me in the real world!"

"Oh, but I do, Akira-kun." The familiar, black light enveloped itself around Akira crotch, and he could feel the horrible, tight, pressing sensation from before.

He screamed in pain. "Not this shit again! Dude, the hell do you want from me?"

"You already know the answer to that question," he said. "Did you really think you could escape the gauntlet of No Nut November just because you left Mementos? Did you really think that I am that weak?" The grip on Akira's dick strengthened, and he screamed again. "My power goes beyond Mementos, child. You would be wise to acknowledge that fact."

Akira wanted to cry. Just when he thought he could escape, just when he thought his life was coming back to normal, this shit happens.

"I know what you were trying to do," the guy said. "You were 1000% finna bust a hard, fat nut. You were going to break the rules of No Nut November. You were going to turn your back on this wonderful month. But perhaps it was my fault. Perhaps I did not make myself clear enough in Mementos. Perhaps, you need a little reminder."

He leaned over to Akira, inches away from his face, that smile still plastered on his lips. Akira would rather come face-to-face with the Reaper than be here now, in front of this asshole, this horrible pain on his poor wiener.

"Today is the first day of No Nut November. You and your three friends are not allowed to jerk off. You are not allowed to have sex with any women. You must keep this holiday in your heart and remember to keep it holy. You must not let the temptations of women blacken your soul. You must stay strong, resilient, steadfast. When November ends, so will this gauntlet. A power beyond your wildest dreams will be granted to you. If you fail, your pecker is gone. Do I make myself clear?"

The grip tightened again. Akira let out another scream. "YES! YES I UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING YOU SAID! PLEASE STOP THIS, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!"

The pain ceased, and Akira was left on the ground, nurturing his fucked organ.

"Good," the guy said. "See you in December, homie. Oh, and don't worry about your friends. I already paid them a little visit. Guess they couldn't wait as long as you, huh?"

The guy disappeared, just like when Akira first encountered him. He felt himself warp out of the Metaverse and back into reality. He was back in his room, surrounded by the familiar walls. His body was covered in sweat. He breathed heavily.

Slowly, cautiously, he stood back up, wincing with pain thanks to his wrecked crotch.

He collapsed on his bed, panting heavily. He rubbed his face with his hands.

 _Fuck you, God_ , he thought, right before he fell asleep.  _I knew you were weren't real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand that's chapter 3! I hoped you guys liked it!
> 
> So, do you have any questions? Comments? Do you like where this story is going so far? Do you think the quality of writing is going down? Is there something you dislike about the way I wrote the characters? Do you have any constructive criticism that can make this thing better? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Were you ambivalent? Should I just stop writing altogether and give up on this thing?
> 
> Please leave a reply and let me know what you think! I can't improve unless you guys tell me what your thoughts are!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.
> 
> -Kiril


	4. Chapter 4: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> Well hey guys! Long time no see, huh? Sorry I haven't been able to upload for a while, my summer's been pretty crazy. It's not that I don't want to update this story anymore or don't have any ideas, but writing usually exhausts the hell out of me, even though I enjoy it so much. I usually need a breather before I feel inspired again.
> 
> Some quick notes before we get to the chapter. First, this chapter is long as FUCK. Actually, what you are seeing right now is actually just Chapter 4: Part 1. Yep, the entirety of Chapter 4 was so long, I just had to split them up into two. I haven't written the second part yet, but I should have that ready faster than it took me to write this one. If you read all of this and feel like it ended sorta abruptly, don't worry, this is not truly where I wanted this chapter to end.
> 
> Second, I need to give a warning. I've never really had to do a trigger warning before, and I am not particularly sure if I even need to have to do one now. If you've been reading my story up to this point, you should be very well aware by now that my writing style and choices of plot points are pretty fucked, but I assure you that I never write anything without a reason. So, with that in mind, please note, if you are somebody who would get easily offended, hurt, or triggered by stories that discuss and/or joke about suicide, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER. I talk extensively about suicide here, both in a serious way and in a humorous way. If that is something that would make you feel uncomfortable, please think twice before continuing.
> 
> Alright, with that out of the way, here's Chapter 4: Part 1!

Akira had no dreams that night. When his alarm rang, his eyes slowly opened, and he stared at his ceiling, not moving, just letting the alarm go off. He didn't want to get out of bed, but at the same time, he didn't want to go back to sleep either. Akira wasn't even sure if he even wanted to still be alive. He felt nothing, thought nothing, and did nothing.

Eventually, a voice broke his stupor.

"You gonna turn that off?"

It was soft, quiet. There was no harshness in the inflection, but there was no life either. Akira slowly turned to his side and turned off the alarm on his phone, which rested on his night stand. He sat up on his bed, and saw Morgana perched on the windowsill, staring out into the rain-soaked alley.

"Morgana?" Akira asked. "What are you doing?"

The cat turned his head and made eye contact with the boy. Akira could see dried splotches of fur under his sockets, his blue, feline eyes discolored by a dark redness made glossy with unshed tears. With that one look, Akira understood everything that Morgana was feeling, and he could tell that his friend understood him as well.

The two stayed like that for a while, staring at each other without saying anything. Akira stood up and walked over to the window.

"Couldn't open it, huh?" He asked the cat, who replied with a sad shake of his head. He pushed the window up with some difficulty, exposing his room to the rain. There were already people outside. Salarymen hustled to work, college students made their morning commutes to Todai, shopkeepers prepared their stores for another day of business. The two friends stared out of the window, basking in the depressing, rain-soaked street of Japan.

"Morgana," Akira finally said. "Please don't kill yourself."

"Why not? Dying would be better than living like this."

Akira sighed. "I know what you're feeling, but we can do this. One month without…" Akira trailed off. He swallowed hard and shuddered. "One month without masturbating will go by quickly. It's not worth dying over."

"Akira, I haven't gone a single day without nutting for the past…" Morgana thought for a while. "Now that I mention it, I think nutting was the earliest memory I ever had. Holy fucking shit dude, I've been jerking off my entire life! I can't do this, man! I can't do this!"

Morgana jumped off the windowsill toward the alley, welcoming death. Akira, luckily, was able to grab him right before he went beyond reach. He pressed the cat's face against his and looked him in the eye.

"One week, Morgana. Just go through one week of this, and I promise you, you'll realize No Nut November isn't so bad."

"Yeah? And what if you're wrong?"

"Then I'll probably kill myself too. Deal?" Akira set Morgana down on the windowsill and stretched out his hand, expecting a shake. Morgana looked apprehensive.

"There's… There's more to it than that, Akira."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Morgana bit his lip and turned his head to the side.

"It's just…" He trailed off.

Akira checked his phone. "Look, man, I have less than an hour to get ready and go to school. If you wanna say something then say it now, I don't have time for this, dude."

Morgana grimaced and shook his head. "It's nothing. Never mind, forget I said anything."

Akira walked over to the LeBlanc bathroom, preparing himself for the day to come.

* * *

The train arrived at Shibuya station. Akira stepped out of the packed car, and as the train left and the crowd cleared up somewhat, he noticed a short patch of blonde hair standing alone by the now empty track. Akira walked over to his friend, who stared intently at the track, even as the black-haired boy stood right next to him. For a few minutes, they said nothing, until Akira finally spoke.

"It's not worth it."

Ryuji clenched his jaw. "You don't know that."

Akira opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, you gotta point."

Ryuji squatted down on the edge of the subway platform, his knee giving a little pop as he went as low as he could go without having his butt touch the ground. He grimaced at the sound. His mouth twisted into an angry snarl, his eyes narrowed, emotions suppressed for too long just barely being prevented from escaping. But like a hopeless old man, he made no outburst as sadness quickly swallowed any passion he might have had at that moment. He hung his head down and grabbed his knee.

"Christ," he said. "It's been like, what, a little over a year since this shit happened?" He slapped his knee and chuckled. "Man. Where does the time go?"

Akira joined his friend's squat. "Kamoshida can't hurt anyone now. Because of you, Ryuji. Because you had the guts to stand up to cruelty, even when it took everything from you."

"And what good does that do me?" Ryuji snapped. "I've only been good at two things in my entire life, Akira: running and jerking off. Now I can't even do that!"

"It's only a month! You're acting like this is the end of the world or something."

Ryuji rubbed his face. "I know! But sometimes I… I just…" The boy trailed off. Akira stared at him intently, waiting to see if his friend would speak again. Ryuji's mouth would occasionally twitch, as if he were trying to say something but couldn't. Akira noticed the light of the oncoming train coming closer from the tunnel.

"Wanna get up before we get hit by the train?" Akira asked.

Ryuji nodded slowly and stood up with his friend.

Akira set his backpack down and unzipped it, pulling out Morgana from its confines. The cat, who usually made it a point to eavesdrop on Akira's conversations so that he would stay updated on Phantom Thief related business, clearly wasn't paying any attention to the two boys' conversation, choosing instead to wallow in a depressed state in the backpack.

"I already spoke with Mona about this," Akira said, "but we're gonna make a deal. I know you guys want to kill yourselves. Shit, I was thinking about it the minute I woke up. But we have to pull through, and we've gotta stick together. We can't let some Metaverse douche ruin our lives like this! After school, we'll meet up with Yusuke and start making a plan for figuring out how to kill that asshole. And once we do, we'll never have to worry about jerking off ever again. Alright?"

Morgana and Ryuji looked at each other, unsure. Eventually though, they nodded in agreement.

Akira breathed a sigh of relief. "C'mon, guys," he said. "We've got class soon."

* * *

Akira stepped into his homeroom class. All of his classmates shifted their eyes to him, watching his every move. Akira stopped giving a shit about the countless rumors about him long ago. Admittedly, they definitely left a mark on his psyche for the first few weeks of school. Getting his shit wrecked by Japanese Howie Mandel, getting roasted by both his parents AND the police for protecting a defenseless woman, and then having to deal with a bunch of retarded rumors from kids he was pretty sure still ate glue? Akira was taking so many hard fucking L's since he got to Tokyo, he was positive he would have to start taking antidepressants.

Once the Phantom Thieves were formed and he found his purpose though… All those stupid rumors were like water running off a duck's back. In fact, he often found them to be advantageous. Lines to the vending machines cleared up whenever he showed up. Most of the kids known for being bullies were too chickenshit to start anything with him, so he never had to deal with wedgies or being shoved into lockers or any of the other crap that the losers in the cryptocurrency club had to deal with on a daily basis. But best of all, whenever he went into the bathroom, everyone there stops whatever they were doing and leaves. He could jerk off in peace and everyone will be none the wiser! Yes, thanks to these rumors, Akira felt like the King of Shujin, or, at the very least, the Grand Viceroy of the Royal Nut (that's what he called it).

Passing by the blackboard, Akira noticed the words "TURN IN YOUR HOMEWORK" sprawled in perfect katakana. Kawakami sat behind her desk, absentmindedly grading homework before class began. A large pile of calculus scrawl accumulated on her desk in a messy pile.

She lifted her tired eyes lazily from the homework, and, finally noticing Akira's presence, straightened her back and met the boy's eyes with her own, giving a knowing, somewhat venomous stare.

"Good morning, Kurusu."

Akira looked away from her, unable to look her in the eye for too long. "Ah, good morning, Kawakami-sensei."

"Well?" she asked. "What are you standing there for? Did you forget how to read?"

Akira quickly nodded his head and set his backpack down. He unzipped it and reached inside, careful to not reveal Morgana's presence to her or the rest of the class. He searched his backpack, looking for the homework in question. After grabbing it and feeling its odd, crinkly texture against his fingers, his eyes widened with a sudden remembrance of last night.

_Shibuya. The subway. My backpack. Morgana._

_That fucking cat._

He zipped his backpack back up, not producing any paper at all.

"I'm sorry, Kawakami," he said to his teacher. "I don't have my calculus homework."

"And why not?"

"My cat came on it."

"What?"

"My cat ate it."

"Really, Kurusu?" Kawakami shot him her trademark bored expression, piercing straight through his hollow lie. She crossed her arms and took the boy in. "You really expect me to believe that your CAT ate your homework? This is the third day in a row you've forgotten your homework. Maybe a detention will straighten you out, hm?"

Akira felt his pulse quicken.  _I don't need this shit right now._

"I dunno, why would I lie to you,  _Becky_?"

The teacher's eyes shot up. She looked around, making sure nobody heard him, and then leaned close to him. "What the  _fuck_  did you just say?" she whispered with a hiss.

Akira's eyes narrowed as they met hers. "Want me to  _elaborate_?" he hissed back.

Kawakami grit her teeth but averted her eyes from his. "Just sit down, Kurusu." As Akira began to turn away from her, he heard her mumble, "You're lucky that you know things."

Akira turned right around, faced her, and whispered, "And you're lucky you're hot." He spun around and walked to his desk before he could clearly catch her expression, but he knew that a huge, burning blush appeared on his teacher's face.

He took his usual seat behind Ann, who, as usual, tapped on her phone uncaringly and occasionally gazed out the window.

Akira set his backpack on his lap. Morgana's head popped out. "Huh? What's going on, Joker?" He asked the boy.

Akira opened the window next to him, grabbed his backpack with his left hand, and extended his arm out of the window.

"Wait, what are you do-AAAAAAAahhhhhhhhhh…" Once Akira released his backpack completely, he closed the window, cutting off his friend's screams as he fell from the second story.

Ann turned around to face the boy. "Hey," she said. "What was  _that_  about?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to get some fresh air."

"No, not that. With Kawakami." She pointed her thumb toward the teacher. "I couldn't tell what you guys were talking about, but it seemed kinda heated."

"Oh, that?" Akira shrugged and looked out the window. "Just Kawacummy trying to fuck with me again, that's all."

Ann broke into a large grin and started giggling, covering her hand with her mouth. "Ah! Fucking Kawacummy!" she said through her chortles.

Akira grinned at the blonde. For whatever reason, Akira never had a great track record when it came to befriending girls. At his old high school, and even his time spent at junior high and elementary school, most of his friends were boys, and he never felt comfortable hanging out with girls by himself. This, obviously, also translated to a distinct lack of sexual experience with women as well. Even the people who he assumed were complete losers who couldn't get laid even if they were bricks at a construction site all ended up getting girlfriends before him, some of them pretty cute, too.

One punched face and a school transfer later, and poof, Ann came into his life. He remembered when he first met her; that horrid, rainy first day of school at Shujin, and out of nowhere came this tall, mysterious,  _blonde_  chick, practically brightening up the day with her very presence. What made the meeting even more memorable was the fact that that was the first boner he popped since he entered his new city. He had gone without masturbating for FIFTY FUCKING HOURS by that point, a record he hadn't achieved since he had his first wank, and his starved sex drive forced the poor boy to stare at the bombshell before him, doing everything in his power to not reach his hand down his pants and bust a nice, hot fattie. He was almost glad that Kamoshida showed up in his douchemobile and picked the girl up. Akira refused the gym teacher's offer to ride him to school, primarily because he knew that if he spent any more time close to the girl he would most likely end up cumming in his trousers.

As the car drove away, Akira was a literal microsecond away from sprinting into the nearest bathroom and unleashing his beast before Ryuji showed up, cursing Kamoshida, unknowingly beginning their friendship and this twisted saga of theirs.

Once Akira started to get to know Ann, though, he quickly realized that she wasn't like most girls he'd known. Ann was… Ann was just so fucking  _cool_. Akira's bitter, acerbic outlook on life created an odd, yet at the same time complimentary dichotomy with Ann's optimism. It was almost like Ann served as Akira's anchor to reality, reminding him to pull through even when times got tough, inspiring him to change his outlook on life. In turn, Akira was like a conduit for all of Ann's fucked up and repressed thoughts. It didn't take Akira long to realize that Ann had a pretty fucked up life, the tragedy involving her best friend Shiho putting her past her breaking point. Akira was the kind of friend who could listen to whatever fucked thoughts and frustrations the girl had and never judge her, and his own perspective on his life gave Ann a sense of vindication and catharsis that she never felt before. The two made a silent vow with each other to spend some time talking with each other every day, just as a way to unwind to support each other emotionally. In fact (and Akira would never admit this to anyone), at one point, he was deadass a stone's throw away from fucking sending it and asking the blonde out on a date.

But that was before he met Makoto.

Akira's heart sang and banged its head against a wall at the same time when he thought of Makoto.

One of Ann and Akira's favorite pastimes was silently roasting authority figures or people they sort of knew behind their backs and making up nicknames for them. Kawakami became Kawacummy. Kamoshida became Douchemoshida. That annoying girl in the back of their class went from Ayano to Annoyo. And so on. This all began because of Akira's vivid and twisted imagination, naturally, and Ann was initially disturbed and admonished her friend for his childish behavior, but she eventually came through, and started joining in with equal enthusiasm.

Kawakami stood up, and the din of the class silenced. She quickly introduced the lecture for the day and started passing papers out to everyone. Once she passed Akira's seat, he couldn't stop himself from letting his eyes trail behind her, fixated on that sweet, bobbing badonk. His eye twitched and he started sucking his lip. He turned forward, only to find Ann meeting his gaze. They stared at each other for a while, before the girl squinted her eyes, pursed her lips, and let out a low, quiet, "OOOOOOOOO, what an ass!"

"OOOOOOO," Akira replied, with the same expression. They broke out in laughter again, their efforts to suppress themselves only making them want to laugh more.

"Fucking Kawacummy…" Ann gave a few more chuckles as she turned around and began her work. Akira looked out the window again and sighed. He checked his watch. Two minutes after class started officially.

_This is usually around the time I excuse myself to the bathroom and jerk off to Kawakami in her maid outfit_. Akira sighed again.

_I wonder how the other guys are doing._

* * *

Sweat dripped down Ryuji's forehead. It stung his eyes, but it wouldn't stop, no matter how many times he rubbed his face clean.

His eyes darted to the left.

_Fumiko Hirata. Sixteen. One hundred and sixty centimeters. Legs: B. Ass: C. Tits: B. Face: A-._

His eyes darted to the right.

_Emi Murakami. Seventeen. One hundred and fifty-five centimeters. Legs: C. Ass: A. Tits: B+. Face: B-._

He looked down at his crotch. He didn't have a particularly big dick, but it made sure to make itself known when it was aroused. Right now, it was pressing right up against the zipper of his jeans, as if trying to pop its head out, look Ryuji in the eye with its own, cock its head to the side, and ask him, in a confused, worried tone, why the blond hadn't beat him to Timbuk-fucking-tu yet.

Ryuji checked his watch. Two minutes after class started officially.

_This is usually around the time I excuse myself to the bathroom and have my third wank of the day._  Ryuji wanted to cry. He knew that he was pretty stupid, but even he was shocked at how long it was taking him to comprehend the situation at hand.

_I can't… I can't masturbate. For an entire month._

He started doing some simple calculations with his fingers.

_This month is November. There are thirty days in November. That's… three tens. A week is seven days. So November will be over in… more than four weeks._

He stared at his desk. He had no idea what to make of this information.

_Ugh, I'll think about it some more after I jerk off._

_Wait. No. If I jerk off then I lose my cock. That's what that white dude said._

_But when can I jerk off again? 'Cause I really really want to right now._

_Uhhhhh…_

He counted with his fingers again.

_When November is over._

_When is that?_

_In thirty days._

_When?_

_November will be over in thirty days. That's three tens, right? A little over four weeks._

_Oh, okay. That's cool. November will be over in thirty days, huh?_

_Yeah, thirty days._

_Cool. Yeah._

He sneezed. He looked at the classroom's wall, the teacher's lecture being completely mute to his ears.

Five seconds later, and he suddenly became extremely bored.

_UUUGGGGHHHH, I don't wanna be here! I'm gonna go jerk off real quick._

_WAIT!_

He scratched his head.

_Who should I jerk off to?_

Good question. He looked around some more.

_Yumi Hanata. Sixteen. One hundred and sixty-six centimeters. Legs: B. Ass: C+. Tits: A. Face: B+._

' _Kay. That'll do._

He raised his hand.

"Yo, teach. Can I use the bathroom?"

The teacher sighed. "Sakamoto, were you listening at all?"

"Yeah!"

"Because I literally just said that I won't let any of you off on bathroom breaks until we've gone over last week's quiz scores."

"Oh." Ryuji slowly lowered his hand with apprehension and slight confusion. He scratched his head again. "Uh, so when can I use the bathroom?"

"Just sit your ass down."

_Jeez, what a jerk._

He kept staring at the wall.

_This sucks! Why won't he let me jerk off?_

He groaned and started thinking about Mementos.

_Boy, I can't wait to go back to the Metaverse and fuck some shadows up. God, I hope I don't have to meet THAT asshole again, though._

_Wait…_

His eyes widened in re-realization.

_I can't jerk off because that guy put a curse on us! And I can't jerk off again until November ends! November is thirty days long! That's three tens! That's a little over four weeks! One week is seven days! One week, but four times! One day, but thirty times! That's how long I can't jerk off!_

Once, when Ryuji was a child, his mother took him to a planetarium. The guide there showed the children a wondrous map of the universe and asked them to try to imagine what infinite space, an infinite number of planets and suns could possibly look like. Ryuji couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around the vastness of the cosmos, it was a concept far beyond his understanding of reality.

That was how he felt about not jerking off for a month.

_Akira should have just let me kill myself,_  he groaned to himself. Ryuji had heard that, sometimes, people encounter such horrible emotional trauma, that they end up having a hard time coming to grips with reality, and the traumatic event in question constantly slips their minds, sort of like a defense mechanism. The more traumatic the event was, the more likely that the person would forget it or deny its existence, sometimes multiple times a month, if it was really bad.

Since he woke up, Ryuji had forgotten all about, and then remembered, No Nut November a total of three times, not including his recent realization.

"Aaaand here's Sakamato's," the teacher said. He handed Ryuji's quiz from last week. "Another F. I think you would get better grades if you just spent even five minutes studying, Ryuji."

"I can't help that I'm dumb!"

"You…! You are not dumb! Nobody is dumb! Everybody is good at something, and everybody needs to work harder on things they don't have a knack for. Which means, you just need to work harder in class, Sakamoto!"

Ryuji scratched his head. "Can I use the bathroom?"

The teacher stared at him for a few seconds. Realizing that Ryuji was dead serious, he returned to passing out the quizzes to the other students without another word.

_Jeez, what a jerk._

He propped his head against his fist, stared at the wall, and sighed.

_Wonder how Yusuke's doing…_

* * *

With all things considered, Yusuke was taking the first day of No Nut November rather well: he only cried in the shower for ten minutes, and only considered swallowing his entire bottle of antidepressants twice before he got to school.

He propped up his easel, prepared his canvas, and started arranging his paints for class. He usually liked to have a nice, solid wank right before he started painting, just to clear his mind for twenty minutes until he inevitably got uncontrollably horny again, but it was fine. Painting was one of the few pleasures he had in life. Masturbating was more like a drug at this point, something that he  _needed_  to do, but didn't necessarily feel good anymore. Sure, he would occasionally get lucky and bust a pretty fat nut that made his eyes roll to the back of his head, but even that couldn't compare to the joy of artistic expression. Nothing felt better that working on a piece for hours on end, letting your emotions and skills blend together to create a finished, beautiful product.

Yusuke always took art seriously, even as a child. He loved to paint and experiment with colors, and always did the best in his art classes. However, the idea of making art as a career never truly struck Yusuke until he got the chance to visit the Tretyakovskaya Gallerija in Moscow, Russia at the age of 10. To this day, some of Yusuke's favorite works of art have been stored in that gallery, which, on the surface, looked little more than some ancient piece of Slavic architecture, an obscure anomaly on the face of modern Europe. Beyond the humble walls, however, resides the accumulation of centuries' worth of Russian art, whose skill and precision rival even those of the French masters in the Louver. This was the first gallery Yusuke had been to outside of Asia, and he always remembered how breathless he felt when he first went, how overwhelming and unfair it was that he, a child barely more than a decade old, should be bombarded with such gorgeous masterpieces at every corner. To this day, Yusuke made it a point to visit Tretyakovskaya once every few years, making it his most visited gallery outside of Tokyo.

Beyond its collection of art, Tretyakovskaya was also home to the single most important moment of Yusuke's life. Toward the end of the gallery hangs a large painting of a woman, dressed in black. She sits on a carriage, travelling through the snowy streets of Moscow, clad in black fur, leather gloves, and a feathery, expensive hat in the aristocratic style. Her eyes, behind two well-mascaraed sets of lashes, stares out from the carriage, out from the painting itself, into the very soul of the viewer.

Yusuke had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life, nor had he seen a painting so masterfully depict the delightful beauty of womanhood since he first laid eyes on the  _Sayuri_. In fact, this painting often rivaled the  _Sayuri_  in his thoughts, and he often debated with himself which one he preferred. Once he discovered the truth behind the  _Sayuri_ , however, and truly understood its significance, the painting obviously became his undisputed favorite, but that unknown woman, or the  _Neizvestnaya_ , as the guard at the Tretyakovskaya had called her when a mesmerized, 10-year old Yusuke had asked him the title, was still incredibly close to his heart.

Upon seeing that painting, and after staring at it for God knows how long, it was then that young Yusuke knew that the path his life must take was set. He wanted to become an artist because, after visiting Tretyakovskaya, he  _needed_  to become an artist, he  _needed_  to make a masterpiece like the one he saw in Moscow. His life had literally no other destiny.

_Destiny_.

Yusuke smiled to himself as he completed his preparations for class. Yusuke was a firm believer in destiny, but even more so, a destiny that was combined with the undying human spirit. He wasn't particularly vocal about this, but Yusuke visited Shinto shrines at least once a day, giving offerings to the regional gods of Japan, or paying homage to his ancestors or the legendary heroes of the nation. Yusuke absolutely believed in the soul; he believed in the innate value that every human being possessed, that nothing was made without a purpose, that the soul of the Earth had a place for every man, woman, and child lucky enough to be born into it.

Yusuke knew that his destiny was art. He knew that he was placed on this world to create, to imagine, to have his work admired, to inspire others through his work as the giants of whose shoulders Yusuke stood upon inspired him. Yusuke knew that without art, his life truly would have been meaningless, and as a result, the spirit of the world would surely have never given him life, he surely would never have been allowed to be born. And this applied to all: Yusuke knew that there were evil people, some perhaps that were beyond redemption, but even the lowest of human scum had a place here, even those who committed unspeakable atrocities had a destiny to complete, a purpose to fulfill. If they refused their destinies and chose instead to live their lives ignorant of their calling, if they chose instead to destroy rather than create, if they chose instead to harm the soul of the Earth rather than honor it, then that was their choice. But no person's life was inherently meaningless to Yusuke, no matter where they came from, how much money they had, or what they looked like.

This was part of the reason why Yusuke was so fascinated by Christianity, and especially with the figure of Christ, despite not being a Christian himself. In Christ, he saw a man who truly understood the nature of the Earth soul, who honored completely and without hesitation the inherent meaning behind every human life. In Christ, he saw a man of undying love and compassion, a man devoted to bringing people to their destinies and kindling their souls with that of the Earth. In Christ, Yusuke saw an artist, an artist so great, that he could inspire without drawings, change hearts without sculpting, and better the world without painting. It has always been Yusuke's dream to depict Christ like the Irish masters of the Book of Kells or Andrei Rublev. Once he could honor Christ like the figures before him did, then that was when he would know that he truly became a master. Until then, he would train, do his best to create, and strive to fulfill his destiny of art.

Almost all the students in Yusuke's art class were present, save for a few stragglers. Class would not officially start for another few minutes, but Yusuke liked to be prepared well beforehand. He took a deep, long breath, and prepared himself mentally for the world of art.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Ayoto stepped in.

_Oh, FUCK!_

Despite the fact that Yusuke was about as thin as a twig, he liked his girls THICK. The Kosei High School uniform did nothing to hide her thighs, which practically spilled over her knee-high stockings, or those delicious, swinging hips of hers, or those wonderful, twin boobs that liked to bob up and down, up and down…

Yusuke quickly averted his eyes from her and wiped away the drool from his mouth, but that did not stop the girl from noticing him and giving him a big wave.

"Heyyyy Yusuke!" She sauntered over to him and took the empty seat next to his. "How's it going?"

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no._ Yusuke swallowed hard and nervously ran his hand through his hair.  _Why now? Why did she have to sit next to me NOW, of all days? I could very well survive this torment after I get used to it, but this is the first day of No Nut November for God's sake! What am I supposed to do, NOT run to the bathroom and masturbate?_

"H-hello, Ayoto-san," Yusuke said, doing his best not to look in her direction. "How are you today?"

She sighed lightly. "I'm good, just tired I guess, haha!" She bent to the side to open her backpack and take out her supplies. While he knew she wasn't looking, Yusuke's bloodshot eyes darted over to her thighs, which, as she bent down, rubbed together ever so slightly, the driplets of sweat running down that delicious skin.

Ayoto arranged her supplies on her little station, getting ready for class. "OOooohhh, we're going to be painting from a model today, right?" she asked Yusuke. "Have you ever done that before?"

"I tried pretty damn hard to…" Yusuke muttered to himself, remembering the time he tried to get Ann to model for him in the nude.

"What was that?"

"Oh! Er, yes, I have indeed. It's one of my preferred ways of painting, in fact. Have you never used one yourself, Ayoto-san?"

She giggled somewhat, making her chest bounce, almost giving Yusuke a heart attack. "Come on Yusuke! You can drop the honorifics. Just call me Ayoto! Gosh, you're so formal all the time. I think it's pretty cute."

"W-what?" Yusuke couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. No girl had ever called him cute before, especially not a prime cut like this one.

Ayoto just giggled again. "Remember when I saw you yesterday at the train station? You kept calling me and other students from our class "san." I was gonna ask why, but you said that you had a stomach problem and needed to use the bathroom? I hope you're better now, by the way, you were there for so long I had to leave."

"Y-yes. Yes, I am indeed feeling b-better now, Ayoto-sa… Ayoto."

"You know, Yusuke…" Ayoto started blushing. Yusuke had never seen her blush. "I think you're really cool."

_What._

"I uh… I was wondering if maybe… You and I could spend some time together alone outside of class. And work on our art."

_WHAT._

"It's… it's okay if you don't want to…" She nervously fixed her hair behind her ear, covering her blushing face. "But… I'd love to have you over."

_**W** _ _**H** _ _**A** _ _**T.** _

Yusuke was about to open his mouth to say something. What that thing was he wasn't particularly sure. But then the door burst open.

"Ah! And here is our model for today!" The teacher said, lifting his head up from his work to face the newcomer.

He was very tall, very muscular, and very good looking. His jaw looked like it was cut from granite, coming down at a perfect 90-degree angle strong enough to break rocks, then coming to an impasse with a perfectly formed, dimpled chin. His perfect hair was styled in a testosterone-fueled, wavy point. He wore a loud, obnoxious, neon green shirt and hot pink sweatpants, which, if worn by literally any other human on the planet, would get them beaten up on the street, but, on him, looked extremely good. His shoes were more like clogs than actual shoes, making incredibly bombastic clops with every step he took. Literally every single inch of this man was carefully designed to make sure that he was the center of attention at literally all times. Everybody in class stared at him, equally fascinated and terrified in his presence.

He took off his sunglasses to reveal a pair mesmerizing, gorgeous eyes, the kind that could make somebody fall in love with him with a single smolder. He gave the teacher a curt, masculine nod of the head.

"Yo wuzzup, teach," he said, his voice sounding like a chorus of angels were singing. His eyes almost immediately spotted Yusuke, and he gave a big, wide grin, revealing a set of flawless, pearly white teeth. "Ay! Yusuke, that you?"

Yusuke could not believe what he was seeing. He could not believe what he was hearing. He could not believe that this was his life right now. That  _this_  is what things had come to.

He jolted up from his seat the moment the guy took off his sunglasses. His voice was choking in his throat, he constantly stuttered. Finally, he managed to get his words out.

"Ch-Chadusuke! Wh… What are YOU doing here!?"

Still smiling, Chadusuke walked, no,  _strode_  over to Yusuke, his long legs allowing him to traverse the rather large art room in a matter of just a few steps.

"It really is you!" Chadusuke said, as he approached the artist.

_Oh lord, please God, no._

Before Yusuke could retaliate, Chadusuke wrapped his large, powerful arm around Yusuke's throat, pulled him so close to his body that the artist nearly cracked his jaw against the guy's rock-hard pec, and then brought a fist to Yusuke's dark-haired head, giving him a noogie so powerful, smoke began to arise from the kinetic friction.

"What's up, KitFAGawa? You still jerkin' off in the bathroom like in middle school, LOSER? Haw haw!"

Yusuke tried to get out of his grip, but he was too weak to do anything. Memories of middle school flashed before his eyes like a PTSD fever dream. Chadusuke dunking Yusuke's head down the toilet and flushing. Chadusuke and his friends stuffing him into his own locker, trapping him inside until school opened the next day. Chadusuke and the entire football team putting him in a port-a-potty, then kicking it down a large hill so that all the shit and piss and cum that accumulated covered the artist from head to toe.

"Now now, boys, settle down," the teacher said. "We have a big day ahead of us, and our model is on a very busy schedule, so we must get started. Everyone, this is Chadusuke Thundercockamato."

The model in question released Yusuke from his hold, causing the artist to start gagging and gasping for air.

"You…!" he sputtered. "You almost killed me!"

"Aw, c'mon FAGusuke, don't be such a pussy. We're just having a little fun like old times, right? Haw haw!"

"Yusuke… Is this a friend of yours?" Ayoto asked.

"No! Absolutely not! This, this… This barbarian made my life a living hell! I hate him with every fiber of my bei-"

"Why don't you introduce me?" She asked. Ayoto bit her lip and stared at Chadusuke's godlike profile.

"H-huh?"

Chadusuke turned to look at the girl, his eyes only barely acknowledging her existence. Her face became the hottest shade of red Yusuke had ever seen.

"Sup?" Chadusuke asked in a bored voice.

"M-my name is Ayoto. It's nice to meet you, Chadusu-"

"Yeah, whatever." Chadusuke walked over to the center of the art room, where Yusuke's teacher had already prepared the area for the model to sit.

Ayoto sat back down at her seat, but her eyes were glued to the model. She unbuttoned the first button of her shirt, and began fanning herself, as she looked hungrily at him.

Yusuke's mind was in a complete scramble. He was usually pretty good at processing information, but today was a big, BIG exception. He twitched and quickly turned to the girl.

"Yes!" he almost shouted.

Ayoto didn't respond and kept staring at the model.

"Ayoto, yes, I would love to spend some time with you after class," Yusuke said in a hurried, panicked voice. "When are you free?"

"Hm?" The girl turned to somewhat regard the boy trying to get her attention. "What was that?"

"You said you wanted to hang out earlier! So, erm, yes!"

She gave him a somewhat confused, somewhat irritated look. "What are you talking about?"

Yusuke became even more nervous than he was before. He gulped hard.

"You… you were just inviting me to spend time with you before Chadusuke walked in, Ayoto. R-remember?"

Ayoto still looked confused, but her face then showed a mild sign of remembrance.

"Oh, yeah. Uh, sure, we can hang out sometime if you want."

"Great!" Yusuke hurriedly grabbed a pencil and his sketchbook. "Does tomorrow work for you?"

"Yeah."

"Great!" He quickly sprawled it down, his normally unique and pristine handwriting transforming into an incomprehensible mishmash of chicken scratch thanks to his sweaty, shaking hand. "A-and what time?"

"Hm?"

"I said, what time?"

"Oh. I dunno."

"Does 4 o'clock work for you?"

"Sure."

"Great!" He scribbled the time down, the calligraphy looking even worse that it did previously. "Shall we meet outside of class then?"

"Yeah."

"Great! Tomorrow, 4 o'clock, outside of class?"

"Uh huh."

"Great! See you then!" Yusuke sat down on his chair and tried to stop his frantic heart from exploding. Yusuke was not entirely sure why, but he had the sudden impression that he needed to act quickly, lest Ayoto disappear from his life forever. But now, Yusuke believed, he could rest easy. Ayoto asked him out, he had accepted, and all was good.

He looked at his blank canvass and smirked as his anxiety slowly began to wash away.

_That Chadusuke thinks he is so great_ , Yusuke thought to himself.  _My time in middle school was tormenting because of his arrogance. He always thought of himself as a god who was better than everyone else, just because he was captain of the soccer team, captain of the baseball team, captain of the basketball team, captain of the aikido club, and was voted the most handsome and most popular and most likely to succeed in our class for three years in a row, and lost his virginity at the age of 13 after having a threesome with two cheerleaders, and had trillions of yen in inheritance because of his parents, and was selected as valedictorian. But that brute will soon realize that life won't be so easy for him in high school! The Yusuke that he so easily pushed around, that was so quick to succumb to his abuse, who masturbated in the school bathroom on an hourly basis is no more! I am a Phantom Thief, a defender of the weak, and enemy to the corrupt and powerful! Chadusuke cannot push me around like he used to, I will make sure of it! And Ayoto is a wonderful, intelligent young woman. Who does that brute think he is, believing that a woman of class such as herself would possibly want to associate herself with him? Preposterous!_

"Okay, class!" the teacher announced. "Our model is ready for you to paint him. Remember what we have learned these past weeks and do your best!"

Yusuke looked up from his easel, and gasped. Standing there, in perfect, pristine form, was Chadusuke, completely naked, every inch of his rock-hard, swollen, deliciously sculpted muscles gleaming under the warm light of the studio. He stood there, posing like an ancient Greek statue, his tanned abdominals jutting out of his otherwise flat stomach and incredibly narrow waist, coming up with perfectly flared latissimi dorsi, accentuated by his fat deltoids and gigantic, round trapezius muscles. His buttocks were smooth, muscular, plump, and connected to a pair of powerful, thick legs that ended with two of the largest calf muscles Yusuke had ever seen.

Yusuke realized how long he was staring at the model, shook his head and began painting.

_Focus, Yusuke!_  He screamed to himself.  _Chadusuke is nothing but a model. YOU are the artist, YOU are the master, and he is nothing more than your subject! With this painting, you will show the world who Chadusuke truly is inside: a horrible, disrespectful psychopath!_

However, try as he might, Yusuke could not accomplish his goal. The more he painted Chadusuke, the more intimately he realized that his physical form truly was perfection. Not a single flaw could be found on his godlike body. Chadusuke's physical form, Yusuke realized, truly was  _the_  Form, the Form that the ancient Greeks spoke so much about. Chadusuke was the measure that every other human body must compare themselves to, the absolute pinnacle of human potential and achievement. Yusuke could not help but compare his own scrawny, delicate, unappealing and imperfect body to Chadusuke's own, which was the literal opposite of everything Yusuke's body was. A deep, nauseating sense of inadequacy began to bubble up in the pit of Yusuke's stomach, but he suppressed it and continued to work on his painting.

Finally, Yusuke finished his painting and evaluated his work, as he always did. Yusuke failed in his goal of using the medium of painting to depict Chadusuke like a monster, like how Goya, the Spanish master, managed to convey his utter contempt for the rich and powerful in  _Charles IV of Spain and His Family_  in 1801. The Spaniard, while delicately and masterfully depicting the royal family's outward virtue, i.e. their wealth and royalty, at the same time mocks them at their faces, exposing them as shallow, ugly creatures that care only for themselves and their coffers. Yusuke chastised himself for believing that he could replicate what Goya did more than two centuries ago. This painting, like so many others in his life, was a complete and abject failure.

"Ah, and now we have Kitagawa's painting!" Yusuke turned around and saw his teacher examining his painting behind the artist's back, the entire class apparently having finished. He examined it carefully, rubbing his jaw like he always did. "Your technical skills are superb, Yusuke, but that is to be expected from an artist of such high caliber as yourself."

"Oh please, do not patronize me, sensei," a dejected Yusuke sighed. "You and I both know this painting was a failure. I was trying to invoke-"

"You were trying to invoke Goya's  _La Familia de Carlos IV_ , yes?" his teacher said, interrupting him.

Yusuke was shocked. "You could tell? That easily?"

His teacher merely chuckled. "You are one of those passionate youths who love to wear their influences on their sleeves. Do you think I hadn't noticed your little doodles of Kramskoi's  _Unknown Woman_  on your art history papers? Or how you keep trying to distinguish some of your more abstract work from Rothko's  _Black on Grey_ , but always fail to make your painting your own?"

Yusuke's cheeks flared. A wave of shame and embarrassment hit him, and he hung his head dejectedly. "You are right, sensei. So much of what I produce is a copy. I am a fraud!"

"No, don't say that. You are so dramatic, Yusuke! Do you truly believe that your quirks and faults are so much different from other artists your age? I have trained more artists than you could possibly imagine, and I see the same things over and over again. You are no different, but that does not mean that you are not special or worthy of becoming a great artist. You have a wonderful, passionate voice. I know this, because every now and again, you will present something to me that contains slivers of who you are as a person, like small beams of light shining through a boarded-up window. Your heart is caged by your neuroticism and insecurity. You hate yourself. I can tell, because every time you approach the verge of letting your heart and true form dominate the piece, you immediately constrict it, terrified at the prospect of what would happen if the world saw you for who you truly were on the inside. It's like a mask that is attached to your face, but only you can remove. You are skilled, Yusuke, and you are incredibly talented, and may very well become a great artist someday. But until you understand how your self-hatred and fear of revealing your true form distorts your perception of the world, you will never be satisfied with yourself, and you will never be able to join the ranks of the masters you admire so much."

Yusuke was rendered speechless. His teacher was known for giving long-winded, rambling monologues to his students, but they were always substantive and deep, and this analysis of Yusuke's character was so spot-on, he felt like he was being spoken to by somebody who knew him his entire life, even though he had only been going to school at Kosei for two years. How could his teacher know so much about him just by analyzing his paintings?

Everything the old man said was true: he indeed hated himself. One of the few good things Madarame had ever done for him was getting him to see a psychiatrist and getting him prescribed antidepressants. For no reason that was discernible to even Yusuke himself, the young artist would spend hours crying by himself in his room on an almost daily basis. Sometimes, when he felt particularly horrible, Yusuke would lock himself in a bathroom and punch his face until large, hard lumps appeared on his cheeks and below his eyes. This brutal act of self-harm was oddly relieving to the boy. Despite the long-held optimism he felt of the human soul and his belief that all humans have a purpose on Earth, Yusuke felt utterly worthless during this period. The pain from battering his face in was like a long overdue punishment. It hurt, but deep down, Yusuke knew that he deserved it. He deserved it because a wretch like him had no place on this Earth. He deserved it because he was an ugly, worthless, stupid ant. He deserved it because he blamed himself when Madarame got mad at him, blamed himself when his art could never meet his own ridiculously high standards, blamed himself when a girl he had a crush on rejected him, blamed himself for his mother's death.

Suicide was a common thought. It began as a passing, almost whimsical fantasy that would pop up every now and again. It came, it disappeared, it was forgotten. As time went by, however, his fantasies became more detailed, more complicated. He started thinking about what he would leave as a suicide note, what the best method of doing it would be, if it would be in a public or private space, who would miss him if he were gone, and so on. Eventually, thoughts of suicide took up the majority of his thinking, and occupied his thoughts even more than art.

Yusuke did nothing to stop his extreme depression. He believed, in fact, that his depression was a gift, a sign from the Earth soul that he was indeed meant to become an artist, that his destiny was to become like a Japanese van Gogh, a master whose damaged mental state served as a most pristine inspiration. Until he started taking medication, and until he started to feel happy again, Yusuke did not have the slightest iota of how ignorant and idiotic his thinking was. He believed that he was worthless, and that his birth had been a mistake; this caused him to have extreme depression. But at the same time, he believed that his depression and sense of worthlessness meant that he was destined to become a great artist, meaning that he  _wasn't_  worthless. And, in his ill-conceived mode of thinking, Yusuke thought that in order to make the kind of art he believed he was destined to make, he had to wallow in his worthlessness, nurture it, let it fester and envelope him, while also believing that this enabled him to  _not_  be worthless.

And through it all, Yusuke never seemed to notice that his legitimate, crippling mental illness was the exact thing that was holding him back from art. How can someone make art when nearly every waking moment of his life was pain? When your mind felt constantly exhausted, when doing even the most trivial tasks required a disproportionate amount of energy? Yusuke did not realize that art no longer gave him any pleasure. Yusuke did not realize that the thing he believed he was destined to do was as tiring and as hellish as everything else in his life, that art no longer served as a creative escape from reality. Yusuke did not realize that his depression, rather than being some martyristic virtue, rendered him nearly incapable of functioning like a normal human being.

It was Madarame who first noticed that Yusuke spent hours on the internet, seemingly researching different methods of suicide. This, along with the almost constant crying fits Yusuke had and the swelling lumps on his face, put Madarame over the edge. He screamed at Yusuke, and immediately called a doctor. The next day, Madarame literally dragged Yusuke into the psychiatrist's office, and forced him to get medical care. After a short talk with the doctor, Yusuke was hospitalized, having been deemed a threat to his own life.

At the time, Yusuke hated Madarame with a burning passion for this. He viewed him as an enemy, just another person who didn't understand his genius and wanted to stifle his creativity with drugs. Indeed, he hated all his teachers at school, because they all begged Yusuke to seek help, identifying the symptoms of depression so commonly found in students from the past. Yusuke did not listen, and he did not care. In his youthful, prideful arrogance, Yusuke believed only the fantasies and paradoxes that he invented in his head, cared only about what he believed to be true, and not what those wiser and more experienced  _knew_ to be true. Yusuke refused to take his pills, sometimes reacting violently when medical staff kept trying to convince him to take them. It wasn't until Madarame himself appeared before Yusuke that progress finally manifested. Without speaking a word to his pupil, the old man slapped Yusuke so hard across the face, the slight and frail boy toppled over his chair and fell to the ground. His surprisingly strong hands around his jaw and neck, Madarame grabbed a pill and literally shoved it down Yusuke's throat, not even bothering to give the boy water to help it go down. This continued for a few days afterward. Nothing Yusuke did could stop his teacher from force-feeding him the pills on a daily basis, his weak and pathetic kicks and punches only serving to make Madarame angrier than he already was. Eventually, Yusuke gave up the struggle and started taking his pills himself whenever he was commanded to. Madarame was present for it each time, making sure that his pupil was doing what he was told.

The effects of the pills were almost immediate. The first major change Yusuke experienced was how his clothes felt against his skin. He remembered vividly how  _good_  the cotton of his garments felt as he rubbed it up against his body, almost as if soft ribbons of velvet were gently tracing along his skin. Such was the curse of depression: even the simplest, most basic aspects of the human condition became lost to the victim, to the point where even a sensation as universally taken for granted as having clothes on your back becomes a sheer blessing once the curse is lifted. Food tasted good again, or, rather, food even had taste for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Even the bland oatmeal he was given in the hospital made his taste buds sing.

Music that he once loved awakened something in his heart that he had not felt in far too long, like a sweaty, scorching body finally stripping out of layers upon layers of clothing, only to be greeted by the cool, refreshing wind that delighted the skin. Beethoven was an artist Yusuke particularly enjoyed in his earlier youth, but recently became as joyless as anything else in his life. Yusuke had vague memories of a violent art film that he once watched when he was younger. He could not remember the title, nor could he remember the plot, let alone the name of its protagonist. But in that moment, when he turned on Beethoven for the first time in forever, memories of that odd, terrifying film flickered in his brain like an old projector running a film reel long forgotten and badly damaged from neglect. The only thing he remembered from the movie was how the protagonist was forced to endure pain and torment when listening to Beethoven, and how, after the film's climax, he was finally cured of his horrible hypnosis, allowing him to enjoy the beloved virtuoso once again. Once Yusuke listened to Beethoven again, he felt like that man, and understood fully the happiness and relief he felt.

It should not be hard to imagine, however, what the true gift of Yusuke's medication was. Art became a joy in Yusuke's life yet again. Not just a joy, but  _the_  joy, the destiny that he was compelled to fulfil. He was able to paint without having a mental breakdown halfway through, he became truly inspired again, he laughed at his little mistakes instead of harming himself for them. Yusuke was taught long ago that the artist is a servant to the art, that it is an artist's duty to make his inspiration into something for the whole world to see. That may be true, but on that day, Yusuke also realized that as the artist serves the art, one must not forget that art serves all, that art exists to please the senses, to inspire the mind, to change the heart. Before taking his medication, Yusuke closed his heart off from art, refusing to let it do its God-given purpose. When Yusuke rediscovered the joy of painting, he realized that an artist serves the art like a man serves his wife, or like a great leader serves his country. He does not serve because he must, he serves because he  _loves_ , and because he knows that what he loves also loves him back.

Yusuke was unbelievably happy that he was prescribed this wonderful medication. He finally understood what the doctors and teachers had been telling him all along, that depression was a disease, not a personality trait. That it was an anchor pulling somebody down, down, down into the depths of the ocean until they could no longer breathe, not a cross to bear. And because of this, his loyalty and love for Madarame was sealed. He realized that his teacher, despite his brutal methods, was simply doing what was best for Yusuke. Yusuke never questioned the old master ever again, and carefully, quietly, unobtrusively, continued to live under the man's large, enveloping wing.

At least, that was what Yusuke thought before he understood the older man's true nature. When the Phantom Thieves exposed Madarame for the fraud that he was, Yusuke was not left without a few scars. In many ways, everything he once knew about life was called into question. After obtaining his persona, joining the Thieves, and creating powerful, unbreakable bonds with his newfound comrades, Yusuke was able, piece by piece, to set his life back together, to rebuild and repair the hole that his teacher once left in his heart.

But amongst the unresolved questions that he still had were this: what was Madarame's true intention with getting the boy to seek help? At the time, he of course believed that the master was genuinely concerned for Yusuke's health, and wanted to see him get better because he loved the boy like a son. But now, he was not so sure. It was clear that Madarame really viewed all of pupils like investments, using them and then just throwing them away when they became liabilities, or once their ability to serve him were exhausted. So does that mean that Madarame saw how Yusuke suffered, and saw taking him to the hospital as a mere security on his investment? Did he only potentially save Yusuke's life because he still saw use in him, and he would serve no benefit if he had committed suicide? This thought was consistent with much of what Yusuke understood of Madarame's true nature.

But some part of Yusuke believed that that couldn't be true. The trust Yusuke placed in the undying power of the human spirit refused to let him accept this theory entirely. Some people are monsters. Yes, he saw them firsthand, he fought them until they changed their ways. He read about some of them in his history books, heard about them in passing conversation. But who was Yusuke to say that the Hitlers and Stalins and Charles Mansons of the world are completely devoid of human feeling and love? His zealous love of the fraud no longer blocked his vision, no longer prevented him from seeing the truth, but he knew that no matter what, Madarame was still only human. Could it be that somewhere, deep down in Madarame's greedy, proud heart, he saw that Yusuke, a fellow human and an innocent soul, was suffering greatly? Could it be that the Madarame who caused so much pain and destruction, who ruined so many lives, who was the sole and undisputed reason why Yusuke's mother had died, was moved by his God-given compassion for his fellow man? Could it be possible that the only reason Yusuke had not killed himself was because once upon a time, a fellow human showed love and sympathy towards him?

Yusuke knew that if it was not possible that Madarame had a motivation more virtuous than simple greed in saving the boy's life, then that would mean Yusuke's life was nothing more than a byproduct of a filthy man's ambition. The air he breathed, the food he ate, the music he listened to, the paintings he made, all of these gifts of life would become nothing more than a result of Madarame's evil, meaning, in turn, that Yusuke's life was a creature born from evil. If this were true, then evil would be embedded into Yusuke's soul. Evil would stay with the artist forever. No matter what he did, no matter what he could do to fight Madarame's legacy and honor the Earth soul, Yusuke would always remain a creature of evil.

This thought did not appear too often, but Yusuke would be lying if he said that he hadn't lost sleep over it every now and again. It was, after all, just one thing on a long list of Yusuke's problems, and as a young professional, he knew that focusing on his art was paramount to his success. It was thanks to his medication and therapy (that gradually decreased in frequency over time) that Yusuke was able to focus so much on what was important in his life.

Still, the medication wasn't magic. Yusuke was still depressed, and the thoughts and feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness occasionally bubbled up inside of him, only rarely spilling out. He did, on occasion, forget to take his daily dose, which would lead to odd bouts of sadness that struck him at a random time the next day like a lightning bolt of depression. And even when he remembered to take his pills consistently, that did not mean that he was immune from his old habits. He would, once in a while, cry himself to sleep. If he was frustrated after a long day, he might be tempted to thrash his face again, although he so far managed to keep himself from doing so. And, once in a blue moon, he thought about killing himself. But overall, his condition was so much better than it was before, to the point where Yusuke had a hard time even believing that he was the same person.

But what the old teacher said… Yusuke knew was true. He hated himself. He wasn't nearly as depressed before, and he believed that his life had meaning. But the self-hatred, the constant wishing that he were somebody else, never left him. Self-love was somewhat of a foreign concept to Yusuke. He never truly understood what it meant. Perhaps, Yusuke supposed, self-contempt was a constant staple of his life, having been with him since he was born. He had grown used to it at this point, if he ever even had a problem with it in the first place. He never thought of his self-hatred as anything more than a natural reality of his life, something that must be accepted rather than questioned. But even then, he never would have thought that his self-hatred could affect his art. What did the teacher mean when he said that it was like Yusuke was wearing a mask that only he could remove? Could it be that his mask was his self-loathing? Was it something that no amount of therapy or medication could fix? The teacher's analysis of his latest painting, though insightful and profound, left the young artist with more questions than answers.

He was about to ask his teacher to clarify what he meant, until he heard the old man suddenly gasp.

"By… by God," he stuttered. "Who… who made this painting?"

The teacher rushed over to a lone painting, which rested against an easel a few seats away from Yusuke. The old man sat before it, stared at it, and hung his mouth open in amazement.

He looked up from the painting, and called out, "Who is responsible for this work? Who painted it? Who!?"

"That was me, teach." All of the students, having had their attentions grabbed by their teacher's outburst, all turned their faces to the source of the voice. It was Chadusuke, who was right in the middle of getting the phone numbers of three girls all at once. He walked over to where the teacher sat. "Yeah, I painted that thing after I was done modelin', bro."

"You!?" the old man shouted. "YOU drew this? But you aren't even an artist!"

Chadusuke shrugged. "I dunno, brah."

The teacher went back to staring at the painting. A single tear shed from him eye. "This… this is perhaps the greatest work I have seen from this class. This is a masterpiece, my boy."

"WHAT!?" Yusuke stood up from his chair. "That is absolutely preposterous! How could that troglodyte possibly have painted that thing if he was modeling the whole time? How would he have any time at all?"

Chadusuke yawned and stretched his arms out. "I dunno, brah, took me, like, twenty minutes to paint it? Wasn't that hard."

"WHAT?!" The teacher's eyes were like saucers.

"That's…! That's…!" Yusuke was not the kind of person to anger easily. It took a sick cunt like Kaneshiro or that asshole Okumara ( _Not Haru, Haru's splendid_ ) to get him legitimately pissed. Even Futaba's pranks and constant shenanigans only barely got a rise out of him, and even then, he was more than capable of dishing out the torment on her just as easily, finding new and creative ways to wreck her shit. But having to deal with his middle school tormenter coming to his class, invading  _his_  space, trying to swoop-in on  _his_  girl, and then claiming to make a painting in twenty fucking minutes when the rest of class was working for two goddamn hours? Yusuke felt his blood boil and his face redden. He didn't care how big or strong Chadusuke was. He wanted to punch that fucker in the face, he wanted to pay him back for all the trouble he caused the young artist.

"That is preposterous, you stupid, talentless oaf!" Yusuke stormed over to where Chadusuke and the teacher (who was still staring at the painting) stood. "I have had it with you and your arrogance! Kosei High School does not need you coming here and ruining everything we have worked so hard to achieve with your antics! I demand that you leave right now, right this instance, or I'll, I'll…!"

Yusuke was not able to finish his sentence. His voice trailed off as the painting caught the corner of his eye, and he slowly turned to take it in. There, resting on the easel, stood a remarkable, masterfully crafted painting of Chadusuke. Everything, literally  _everything_  about this piece, from the lighting, to the anatomy, to the passion and form put into it, to the colors and brush strokes, was world-class, something that could easily have been mistaken for something found at the Louver. Chadusuke's painting was far and beyond above the talent of a typical art school student, let alone some layman.

Yusuke was floored. He fell backwards, and if it weren't for the fact that there happened to be a chair behind him at the time, he would have surely fallen right to the ground. He placed his hands against his head, and tugged on his hair, a signal of stress and despair that he often saw Akira perform. Yusuke had no idea where to go from here. His mind was completely blank, his thought processes absolutely annihilated.

"Which high school do you go to, my boy?" Yusuke heard the old teacher ask.

"Don't go to school."

"What? How can that be?"

"Yeah, I spend all day helping my dad run his companies. It's super tough too, I gotta take all these daughters of his business associates out on dates and then fuck 'em so he can build some clout. Brah, some of them aren't even super models!"

"Stay right here. I'll be back in a minute. Do not move a muscle!"

Yusuke heard the teacher rush out of the room and the door close.

Chadusuke yawned, plopped down next to the young artist, and smacked his arm. "Yo, you still wear tighty whities like in middle school, FAGusuke?"

Slowly, and with his hands shaking ever so slightly, Yusuke raised his head up, turned, and looked Chadusuke right in his face. His eyes were completely full of bitter, passionate hatred.

"I don't wear underwear anymore, Chadusuke," Yusuke deliberately said, pure venom injected into every single syllable of his voice. "Every time I wear underwear, I am reminded of how you used to give me wedgies and then hang me up from the school's flagpole by them. My doctor says that I am at risk of having a mental breakdown if I so much as even touch a pair of underwear ever again. Because of you, Chadusuke."

"HAW HAW, what a fuckin' loser!" Chadusuke laughed.

Yusuke resigned to his former position, letting his anger and frustration steep as he continued to pull on his hair. He heard the classroom's door open again, and two pairs of footsteps followed.

"Right here, Principal-san!" the old teacher said. "This is the painting I was telling you about!"

"By God!" the principal said. "This is remarkable. Who is responsible for this?"

"Yo," Yusuke heard Chadusuke say.

"I am the principal of Kosei Academy. Chadusuke Thundercockamato, how would you like to have a full-ride scholarship (with benefits) to study at our school?"

Chadusuke yawned again. "Yeah, okay I guess."

"Fantastic! Your first day starts tomorrow!"

Without warning, Yusuke jolted up from his seat, gave a loud, blood-curdling scream, and then ran out of the classroom.

* * *

_Okay, Yusuke. Calm down. Calm down, Yusuke, calm down_.

Yusuke's class ended about thirty minutes ago. He wandered through the halls, his arms wrapped around his torso. His face was pale and sweaty.

_Alright, Kitagawa. Alright. Just settle down. That's right. Just calm down. Relax. Breathe. Just settle down and breathe._

Yusuke squatted down and rested his back against the hall. His breaths were deep.

_Now, what are some things I can do to calm myself down? What do I usually do when I feel stressed and helpless?_

_Masturbate._

Yusuke groaned. When he realized that he would have to go through No Nut November, Yusuke was rather confident that, at least on his first day, he would be able to hold it in. But it was only until now that Yusuke realized how foolish and arrogant he was. No Nut November was a gauntlet unlike anything else he had experienced before, and he'd only gone barely a day without jerking off! The taste of that sweet, sweet nut was already driving him insane, his desire to feel that release overwhelming his ability to think properly. Water, water, everywhere, and all the boards did shrink. Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.

Suddenly, a thought came to Yusuke's mind.

_That shadow. He said that I can't masturbate, and I can't have sex with any women. But he never said anything about jerking off… and not cumming._

Feeling his hand run up and down his shaft was often a soothing experience for the young artist. Even before he would reach orgasm, Yusuke always managed to calm his nerves by massaging his dick. Maybe, if he did it just enough, but stopped before nutting, he would be able to calm himself down before he tried to jump out of a window.

But Yusuke knew that this was a dangerous game. Edging while trying to not cum was like playing with fire. First you think that you're just relieving some stress, and the next thing you know, your eyes are crossed because you just busted five nuts in rapid succession.

But Yusuke's thoughts quickly turned to Ayoto. Ayoto and her delicious, beautiful, THICK hips. Just thinking about her made his heart beat. Did the events in class really happen? Did Ayoto actually ask him out on a date? Sure, she didn't say  _specifically_  that it was a date, but even the most ignorant and boneheaded person could tell that Ayoto's blushing and nervousness could only mean one thing: she wanted the D, and she wanted it BAD.

Yusuke drooled and hardened at the thought of a girl that hot wanting his cock. Was this the moment he was waiting for? Will he finally be able to have his dreams come true and get a cute girlfriend? Yusuke was giddy at the thought. Hitting puberty sooner than the other kids his grade came with a slew of negative consequences, not the least of which involved him being uncontrollably horny and pathetically pussyless for many long, lonely years. At this point, Yusuke was scared that his dick was so acquainted his hand that once he finally got it in, the death grips would prevent him from experiencing any pleasure at all.

Yusuke steeled himself. With a look of cocky determination, he briskly walked to the nearest bathroom. He knew that he was taking a huge risk by doing this, but it was something that he would have to do if he wanted to prevent himself from going completely insane. This entire day was so fucked, he needed something, anything, to pull him back to reality, to help him compose himself, and that might as well be masturbating, right? Even without finishing, it would be better than going through the rest of the day without it.

With Ayoto and her big, JOOSY ass in his thoughts, Yusuke made his way to the door of one of Kosei's many bathrooms. He took a deep, long breath, his hand right on the door and ready to push. He smirked.

_Despite No Nut November, and despite that devil Chadusuke invading my life… At least I have Ayoto. Tomorrow, at 4 o'clock outside of school, I, Yusuke Kitagawa, will change my life forever, and get the girl of my dreams!_

His happiness at its highest level since the day began, Yusuke confidently pushed the bathroom door open, ready to pleasure himself.

He saw Chadusuke fucking Ayoto from behind right in the middle of the bathroom. They didn't even go into a stall or anything: her hands were against the sink as she bent over, a look of sheer pleasure on her face as Chadusuke kept ramming her with his sizable anaconda.

For the second time that day, Yusuke gave a loud, blood curdling scream. They didn't seem to notice.

* * *

"That's it! I'm shooting up my school!"

Akira sighed. He often found himself doing that whenever he spoke to Yusuke during one of his many episodes of excitement.

"Yusuke, you are not going to shoot up your school."

"I am out of options, Akira! This is the only way! I cannot go on living with fucking Chadusuke in my school, I refuse!"

"The fuck's a Chadusuke?"

"I will have my revenge Akira, I will! I don't care how many people I need to take down with me, I will do it!"

When Akira suddenly got a call from Yusuke in the middle of class, he was expecting it to be something related to No Nut November. However, he never thought that the gauntlet would be so difficult for the artist to go through that he would resort to committing mass murder. In fact, Akira expected Yusuke to be the last person to go ballistic like this. Sure, the guy jerked off a lot, but unlike Akira, Ryuji, and Morgana, Yusuke had art to keep him company, whereas the other boys just resorted to playing with their dicks whenever they weren't doing anything important. Yusuke also had the added benefit of being the smartest person out the four of them, by far. He would probably get lost trying to find his way out of a paper bag and had the common sense of Crayon Shin-Chan, but he had an uncanny amount of mental fortitude and creative energy. Shouldn't Yusuke, of all people, be able to find a way to defeat his urges during No Nut November?

"I'm going to be running some errands after class today, and then you, me, Morgana, and Ryuji are all gonna meet up at LeBlanc and find a way to sort all this out. We're gonna find a way to beat No Nut November once and for all, and when we do, you're gonna be able to jerk off again. Would like you that, Yusuke? Will that calm you down?"

Akira tried to speak in as soothing a voice he could, but he couldn't manage to hide a bit of an edge in his inflection. Like Morgana and Ryuji, Akira really didn't have the time to deal with his friends' bullshit right now, especially since he was already spending most of his mental energy trying to stop himself from nutting.

"I… I…" Yusuke stammered. The boy sighed through the phone. "I suppose it would."

"Good, glad to hear it. Swing by at like 6?"

Yusuke didn't reply.

"Yusuke, buddy, c'mon, I'm missing class here."

"Akira. Have you ever felt… Like you were worthless?"

"What?" Akira knew that he probably shouldn't brush his friend off, but he didn't have the energy to deal with Yusuke's cryptic nonsense. "Uh, no, not really. I'm a Phantom Thief after all. And I have a bunch of great friends who love me, you included."

"Ah." If Akira's answer made Yusuke feel any better, he certainly didn't show it. "Thank you, Joker. Of course. You're right. My friends."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Okayyyy, so I'm gonna head to class now," Akira said. "See you at six."

"See you."

"And no shooting up the school."

"Of course."

Akira hung up and shook his head.

_Yusuke Kitagawa. Sheesh, you think you know a guy. I guess a man's true colors only make themselves apparent after he stops jerking off._

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Akira trudged back to class, casting a wistful glance at the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you guys it was pretty fucked. 
> 
> Some of you might be kind of frustrated by how slow this story is going. There are a lot of things that I want to cover and establish before I speed things along. I promise you, things will go by much quicker once I get the second part of this chapter out. I'm not planning on having every single day of No Nut November take multiple chapters, haha.
> 
> What did you guys think? Has the quality of writing gone down? Do you not like the direction the story is taking? Please, by all means, I want you guys to roast my shit if you have things to roast. Don't worry about hurting my feelings, I assure you that I have none, all I care about is improving my writing skills and making this story the best it can possibly be.
> 
> As a side note, I'll be taking questions! Leave a review or PM me, and ask me any question you like, and I'll answer it either in the author's notes of the next chapter or in a PM. Seriously, ask me anything you guys want, I will answer literally anything (aside from things that would make me give info that's too personal, of course). Ask, and you shall receive!
> 
> Thanks for reading this far, thanks to all the wonderful support you guys have been giving me, and thanks for being great! See you next time!
> 
> I really need a girlfriend. 
> 
> -Kiril


	5. Chapter 4: Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Makoto checked her clock.

_3:01._

She knew that it wasn’t wrong. In fact, she checked at least once a day, just to make sure it wasn’t too fast or too slow. Obviously, she could just check her phone. But wouldn’t it make more sense to have a nice little clock in the corner of the room that she could check without her having to take a device out of her pocket? More efficient. Time saving.

She checked the clock.

_3:01._

She wasn’t there. School ended a minute ago, but Haru wasn’t there.

She cracked her neck. She cracked her fingers. A pencil on her desk was slightly askew. She fixed it. Made it straight.

She checked the clock.

_3:02._

Two minutes late.

Her fingers drummed against the desk. The desk that was the designated Student Council Desk. She remembered the last student council president. He was hot. Hot but stupid. Last she heard of him, he was at Todai. If somebody that stupid could go to Todai, why couldn’t she? Maybe because she wasn’t as hot as he was? Was attractiveness something that went into consideration for university applications? She remembered reading some headlines for clickbait articles that suggested such a thing, but she never paid them much mind. Maybe they were right. She made a mental note to find those articles and see if they contained any reliable information. You couldn’t be too liberal with what information you chose to listen to nowadays. Too much fake news and propaganda. In any case, did she even make the cut? Well, obviously not. Her skills at makeup were subpar, and her fashion choices conservative and unsexy. Well, to be honest, she always kept her body in shape. But was that enough? Was there some ideal to sexiness that transcended mere physicality? Was she missing that one crucial thing that could help her make the cut?

The door handle turned with a small squeak. Makoto didn’t need to adjust her posture, fix her skirt, or even move her eyes to the door. Her back was already straight. Her clothes were already pristine. Her eyes never left their focus from the door.

Haru peeked her head into the room, and her eyes widened in instinctual panic as they met Makoto’s.

“Close the door.”

Makoto barely gave her a second to process her situation. A nervous salutation got trapped in her throat with the older girl’s command, allowing her to only muster a hurried nod.

“Have a seat.”                                                                                     

With the door shut, Haru slowly made her way to the chair planted directly in front of the Student Council President, her gaze fixed upon her the whole time. After finally sitting down, Haru nervously shifted her legs.

“Y-you wanted to see me, M-Makoto?”

Makoto looked briefly at the clock, and she could barely hear the ghost of a relieved sigh when she broke eye contact with Haru.

 _3:03_.

“Yes.” Makoto intertwined her slender, immaculately-kept fingers together and rested them on the desk. “Do you know why you are here, Haru?”

Haru gave a single, nervous chuckle, but quickly regretted it and looked away. “I-uh, I guess I told a little fib.”

Haru’s response only rested in the air for a mere microsecond before Makoto sliced through it with her reply.

“You guess?”

“Uh, no! No, I mean, uh. I, I told a fib. Yes, I-I definitely told a f-fib.”

“Lie.”

“P-Pardon?”

“You told a lie, Haru. Not a fib, a lie.”

“Aren’t those the same things?”

It was rare for Haru to speak before thinking. Her heart dropped once she realized that the rare occurrence manifested now.

Makoto quietly, but firmly, placed both her hands on the table, and raised herself up in a fast, smooth motion. Haru gasped, and instinctively shut her mouth with her hands. Her instincts would normally beg her to squeal out an apology, but her tongue was too frozen to say anything.

Makoto stood like that for a few seconds. “Is this a joke to you, Haru?”

Haru jacked her head left and right.

“Then why are you treating it like one?”

Her hands finally obeying her, she revealed her mouth and gave a hurried “I’m sorry!”

“No. No, I don’t think you are.”

Makoto leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between her and Haru. The girl shrank beneath her gaze, but not daring to look away from her red eyes of Kaa.

“You have no idea what you have done.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Haru’s brow.

“Your infatuation with Joker is a distraction. Not just to you, but to all of us. We almost died because we were too busy talking about it with Ann and Futaba in Mementos. Granted, I take full responsibility for that: as second-in-command, I believed it was my duty to discuss such an important matter with a teammate. Obviously, you are not to blame for what occurred. I apologize.”

Haru did not expect that. Her body, which she only just now realized was as tense as a snake coil, loosened slightly. “Oh. Uh, I mean. That’s… That’s alright, Makoto.”

“BUT YOU MADE A FOOL OUT OF ME!”

Haru nearly had a heart attack.

“Your crush not only got us almost killed, it also shifted the blame of us nearly dying in Mementos onto me! You made me look like an idiot in front of Joker!”

“I’m sorry!”

“What is Joker going to think when his second-in-command is apparently willing to risk the lives of all of her teammates just to share gossip like a twitty schoolgirl?!”

“I’m sorry!”

“How is he ever going to trust me ever again?! How will he ever think I am capable of leading us?!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Oh, God! And Yusuke, Morgana, Ryuji. What about them? Even if Akira finds it in himself to forgive me and make me co-leader again, how can those three ever respect me as a leader? My position in the hierarchy will be compromised, the structure of the Phantom Thieves is going to crumble, discipline will be lost, and we’ll all die as a result!”

“I’M SORRY!”

Haru got on her knees and prostrated herself over and over, her head just shy from banging against the ground with every bow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY! Queen, forgive me!”

Makoto straightened herself out. She gazed at her nearly weeping friend.

“There’s only one way you can fix this, Haru.”

She looked up at Makoto, confusion written on her face.

“You need to tell Akira that you lied about me having a crush on somebody.”

“O-okay! I’ll do that! I’ll clear your name!”

“No.”

Makoto walked over to the room’s sole window. She stood there, gazing out of the glass, concentrating on what to say next.

“You also need to confess to him.”

For a few seconds, Haru was at a complete loss for words.

“W… what?”

“You must, Haru.” Makoto turned around and faced her. “This secret is stupid. Very stupid. It’s clear that it will only be a distraction from now on. I can’t allow what happened last night to continue in the future. As long as you keep this secret, you compromise the Phantom Thieves. Confess to Akira.”

Haru couldn’t move, but her eyes were wider than they were before. A hot, scorching blush made its way from the bottom of her neck to the tips of her ears. Her breathing became slow, but ragged.

“If you don’t tell him,” Makoto said. “Then I will.”

“NO!”

That was the closest thing to a roar Makoto had ever heard come from a human. Haru bounded up to her, and, to the taller girl’s utter shock, grabbed her by her shirt collar and started shaking her.

“YOU CAN’T TELL HIM! MAKOTO YOU CAN’T TELL HIM! I WON’T LET YOU! YOU CAN’T YOU CAN’T YOU CAN’T!” Haru’s eyes were desperate, primal. Now it was Makoto’s turn to feel scared. She never thought something like this could happen, but the tables were turned on her so quickly, so effortlessly, her brain was left in a wild scramble, hopelessly trying to figure out what to do. She grabbed Haru’s wrists and tried to loosen her grip, but they remained firm.

“Then you tell him yourself!”

“I! I can’t!”

“You can! You have to!”

“I…” Haru loosened her grip finally. She looked away from Makoto.

Makoto shook her head and placed a warm hand on Haru’s shoulder. Haru looked up. The stone-cold glare from Makoto’s eyes were gone, replaced with a firm, yet gentle friendliness.

“I know what it’s like to have a crush on somebody. Believe me, I know. But how long are you going to keep this a secret, Haru? When are you going to admit your feelings? Are you really okay with just pining for a boy, and not even trying to make him yours?” She gave a compassionate smile. “You can do this Haru. Do it for the Phantom Thieves.”

Haru let out a breath. She looked away from her friend. After a few moments of thought, she said, “I need time.”

“How much time? A week?”

“I… I don’t know. Makoto, you don’t understand! I’ve never felt like this with a boy before. I’ve had crushes, but Akira… Makoto, I would do anything for him. When he rescued me from my father, when he helped me accept who I am as a person and let this great, big weight off my soul, I… My heart belongs to him, Makoto. If he rejects me, I…” Haru’s lip quivered. Her skin turned somewhat pale. “I can’t think about it. I can’t even comprehend it. Makoto, I need time!”

_Woah._

Makoto had no idea that Haru’s love went this deep for Akira. She knew it was somewhat ridiculous. After all, the two knew each other for only, what, like over a month? How could Haru possibly know that she loved Akira this much? But she knew from personal experience that it was hard to not quickly form a tight bond with your companions after exploring the Metaverse for so long. She remembered believing that Morgana was kind of annoying at first, but quickly took a liking to him after a day, and after a week, she began considering the cat one of her closest friends, along with the rest of the group. And the look in Haru’s eyes told her everything. Whether or not it was puppy love didn’t matter. Makoto could tell just how much Akira meant to her. Her loyalty went beyond words. If Haru had to sacrifice herself for the boy, Makoto knew that she would.

“Okay. I understand. You can take your time. But Haru, this can’t go on for long. You need to prepare yourself for rejection and just do it. And what if he feels the same way! Haru, you have to do something before it’s too late.”

Haru recomposed herself. She breathed heavily. “I think… if you gave me a month, I’ll be able to do it.”

“A month?!”

“Mako-chan, listen. Give me a month. I’ll… I’ll do my best to see if Akira likes me back. I’ll spend more time with him, I’ll talk to him more. And, if I think he feels the same way, I’ll confess. But if it’s clear that he doesn’t, well… I love him too much to be mad at him. I’ll let him go. I won’t even need to confess, Mako-chan. I’ll be able to bury it in my heart. It will hurt, but that is infinitely better than the alternative. What day is it today?”

“November 1st.”

“Okay. Give me until November 30th. At the end of the month, I’ll do it. Please, Makoto. Please?”

Makoto sighed and got back into her chair. Her terrifying attitude toward gossiping about this sort of thing was really just a show. There was no way, no way in _hell_ , she would let this girl she considered her sister suffer over a boy all by herself. She was prepared to do whatever it took to help Haru through this time, and if that meant some distractions during Mementos, then so be it.

_But a whole month of this?_

She rubbed her forehead and sighed again. “Okay, Haru. I trust you. Please, just don’t make any rash decisions, okay?”

“O-okay.” Haru sat down too, trying to calm her racing heart. The two girls let the silence permeate between them.

Makoto was the first to speak again. “Man. I’m going to have to be spending more time with Akira, too.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

Makoto let her body relax as she reclined on her chair. “I mean, like I said, I need to get him to trust me again. This whole… incident, on top of the fact that he’s just so…” Makoto grasped at the air, trying to find the right word to describe their leader. “Just so weird. It’s hard to explain, but ever since I met him, I just… It’s just really hard for me to connect with him. I can barely even call him a friend, and now that he thinks I compromised the team for a crush, I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”

“Mako-chan, Akira values you a lot, both as a teammate and as a friend. It might be hard for him to show it, but I know he cares for you as much as any of us.”

“Maybe.” Makoto rubbed her tired eyelids. “I guess we’ll see this Saturday.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Oh.” Makoto yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I asked him if he wanted to see a movie with me this Saturday. Hopefully I’ll be able to finally crack his shell and get back into his good graces.”

“You asked him out.”

“Hm? Yeah, I guess I did. Aaaahhh! I’m so tired! I can’t wait to go home and take a long-“

“You’re going out with him.”

There was something off in the way Haru inflected her voice. Makoto opened her eyes and took her friend in, but what greeted her vision was something totally unexpected. Her jaw was clenched _shut_ , her usually full, inviting lips pressed into a thin, white-hot line. Her eyelids narrowed slightly.

“We aren’t going on a date or anything! I just, uh, I mean, I just wanted to get him to, uh…”

Haru’s gaze did not change in the slightest, but she gave two robotic nods of her head.

“I understand.”

“O-oh.”

“You just wanted to hang out with him.”

“Yeah.”

“So you asked him out.”

“Yeah.”

“So you can hang out with him.”

“Yeah.”

“Akira is very handsome, don’t you think?”

“Ye-“

_WHAT._

“What?”

“I said, don’t you think he’s handsome?”

Makoto still didn’t understand. She stared at Haru for a few seconds.

“I mean, I guess?”

“Hm? You don’t think so?” Haru cupped her jaw with her hand, rested an elbow on Makoto’s desk, and looked out the room’s window, lazily twirling a lock of her smooth hair. “I assumed most girls would think he’s cute. Ann definitely does, she told me herself. Would never date him, but…” She shrugged. “I always thought he would be kinda your type.”

…

…

“M-my… my type?”

“Yeah. I thought you two were a cute couple when I first met you guys. I mean, I just assumed you were a couple at first. Not sure why, since you never hugged or kissed or held hands or anything. But I was really shocked when I found out you were both single. Or, rather, more just shocked that _he_ was single. I mean, the boys in this school are generally kind of awful and gross. A few good ones, but, eh.”

She locked eyes with Makoto. A small smiled curled on Haru’s face.

“I never told anyone this, but before we ever even went on our first real mission together, I thanked God how lucky I was that you hadn’t taken him by now. If I knew him for as long as you have, I would have done anything I could to make him mine. I thought that a girl as pretty as you would be dying to find a new guy to meet. Especially one that cute.”

_Oh. Fuck._

“No! I swear to you, I DO NOT see Akira that way. He’s just a friend to me! And besides, looking for a boyfriend is not something I do, Haru.” She chuckled a little. “I mean, you’ve known me long enough to know that I’ve been kind of a shut-in why whole life. I’ve never even had a boyfriend before, I genuinely don’t even want one.”

Haru’s eyes closed as her smile widened.

“I know! You mentioned that before. It’s kind of a shame, though. I’m sure you’d make any guy happy!”

Haru stood up from the chair and grasped the door handle. She turned her head back to Makoto, her hair gently swinging across her smiling, cute face.

“So we’re done here? Let’s head out!”

And with that, she opened the door, and stepped out into the school hallway.

It took a while for Makoto to get her thoughts back in place. The Haru she knew seemed to become a completely different person when it came to Akira. Her violent reaction to Ann outing her in Mementos was surprise enough, but what she just saw was terrifying. It was rare for another student to even come close to intimidating the Student Council president, and Haru was the last person Makoto would think would be capable of doing such a thing.

She gave a small gulp and wiped her brow, only to find some sweat there. She checked the clock.

_3:10._

She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder. She turned off the lights and stepped out.

* * *

 

“Hold on, where’s Morgana? And where’s your backpack?”

Akira sniffed.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Nevermind.”

With classes over, Ann and Akira began their afternoon ritual of lounging around in their classroom and talking to one another as they waited for Ryuji to show up. Many of the other students had already left the classroom by now, but a few were also occupying the space, dawdling on their way to leave.

As soon as Kawakami started prattling on about quadratics or whatever the hell it was they were supposed to be studying, Akira’s mind naturally began to drift. He thought about when the next issue of his favorite manga would come out, the upcoming history quiz, what it must feel like to get his dick sucked by Ann, how much money he would need to get a new laptop, wondering if Kawakami would let him shove it up her ass if he paid her enough, his upcoming trip to Takemi’s office to thank her for taking care of him while he was passed out, imagining him repaying her by cumming on her tits, and so on. Overall, a pretty typical school day, although the day’s lack of frequent self-inflicted orgasms made his dick feel strangely ticklish as it pressed against his pants. And, as usual, as soon as classes were over and he began talking to Ann, he forgot all about the fact that he just spent the better part of the last hour thinking about railing her nonstop until his cock fell off of his pelvis.

Despite the nonstop horniness, No Nut November didn’t feel that bad so far. Of course, he knew that over the course of the month, there would be times where he would really, REALLY like to masturbate, but Akira was confident in his ability to maintain self-control. He shook his head as he thought of his other No Nut Companions, knowing that they were probably suffering tremendously by now, and thanked his lucky stars that he wouldn’t have to suffer as much as them. And besides, that’s why he’s the leader of the Phantom Thieves, right? Because he was always calm, and cool, and collected? Because he always knew how to get out of a bad situation and find a way out? And as leader, Akira knew that it was his duty to help Morgana, Ryuji, and Yusuke through this harsh time, even though he knew that he won’t have it as bad as them. A sly smugness bubbled up in Akira’s heart as he imagined paternalizing his three friends, being the compassionate, yet stern voice of reason that he knew he truly was deep down inside.

Ann and Akira’s conversation was cut short by the sound of the classroom door opening. But much to their surprise, it was Haru who greeted their vision, not Ryuji.

_Oh, that’s Haru! Wonder what she’s doing here._

Makoto stepped in too.

_FUCK._

“Oh, hey guys!” Ann greeted them. “Didn’t expect to see you here. We’re just waiting for Ryuji.”

“Yes, we were planning on trying to set up a time for a meeting,” Makoto said. “We need to make figuring out that new floor in Mementos our priority.”

_BAD. THIS IS BAD._

“Oh! I was just about to bring that up to Akira, actually,” Ann said. “Looks like I can always rely on you to take initiative, huh Makoto?”

“Well, I try my best to be a good co-leader and team strategist. It’s my duty, after all.”  

“Are you feeling alright, Akira-kun?” Haru sweetly asked. “I was so worried when you got knocked-out. I, uhm. I wanted to call you last night to make sure you felt okay, but I decided that you probably wanted to rest.”

And for some reason, for some _fucking_ reason, Makoto turned her head to Akira and gave him the sweetest, sexiest, cutest smile he’s ever seen. “You were knocked out cold for so long, I hope you feel okay,” she said.

Akira didn’t really know why his dick went from zero to hero whenever Makoto smiled at him. But it probably had something to do with his heart feeling like it was about to melt.

 _Oh, why does this have to happen now?_ Akira thought. _I was just minding my own fucking business and trying not to jerk off and Makoto just HAD to walk right in with her sexy legs and cute butt and STUPID gorgeous face with that FUCKING AMAZING smile and that GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING ADORABLE VOICE AND HER STUPID BULLSHIT PIECE OF SHIT MATURE AND ORDERLY PERSONALITY THAT JUST MAKES ME WANT TO KISS HER AND_

“Oh, yeah. I’m feeling fine, thanks.”

“When will Ryuji get here?” Makoto asked. “We should probably get the group together as quickly as possible to figure this thing out.”

“Agreed,” said Ann. “We shouldn’t dawdle on this. What’s the deal with that creepy floor? We might need to start exploring it again today, but with more caution.”

_B A D._

“I’ll text the other guys real quick.”

Akira said that sentence very nonchalantly, but internally, he was screaming. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and created a private group chat with Yusuke and Ryuji so quickly, he was afraid his phone would crack with the impact of his thumbs.

**Akira:** _BAD. THIS IS BAD. BAD NEWS BAD NEWS_

**Yusuke:** _What?? What is the matter?_

**Akira** : _MAKOTO IS HERE_

**Yusuke:** _And?_

**Akira** : _AND SHE’S REALLY FUCKING HOT_

 **Ryuji:** _Don’t remind me._

 **Akira:** _AND THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT EXPLORING THAT FLOOR IN MEMENTOS_

**Yusuke:** _So?_

**Akira:** _We can’t let them go in there! We need to keep No Nut November a secret from them, and we need to keep them away from that sock-tanned douchebag._

**Yusuke:** _You are right. I should have predicted that the girls would obviously be concerned about this and try to investigate. It would be disastrous if they encountered that… thing and got seriously hurt by him. We are clearly no match for him._

**Ryuji:** _I really want to jerk off._

**Akira:** _Okay, I’m going to make up some shit about you guys not being able to meet up today. We’ll regroup at LeBlanc like we originally planned, and we’ll go from there._

**Yusuke:** _How are we going to prevent them from trying to get to that floor in the future, though?_

**Akira:** _I don’t know! I’m using the majority of my brain capacity to resist cumming in my pants, I can’t think right now._

**Ryuji:** _Same here._

**Yusuke:** _Ryuji, you NEVER_ _think, and yet you still ejaculate like a slimy garden hose._

Ryuji then sent a gif of a guy getting fucked in the ass by a horse, his favorite go-to for when somebody roasted him too hard in a group chat.

**Akira:** _Goddamn it, not this shit again. Just make sure you guys are at LeBlanc by six._

“Ryuji and Yusuke can’t meet up today,” Akira calmly said, pocketing his phone.

“Um, what?” Ann said. “This is kinda a big deal. What could be more important to them right now?”

Akira shrugged. “Yusuke’s got this meeting with some artist he’s been dying to see for a while, and Ryuji needs to help his mom out with something.”

“Well, can you ask them if they can meet up tomorrow?” Makoto asked. “This needs to be our top priority.”

“Sure, I’ll ask them.”

Akira pulled his phone out again.

**Akira:** _Dick cheese dick cheese poop asshole vagina_

**Yusuke:** _What in the world has gotten into you?_

**Akira:** _Those harpies are asking me to plan a meeting with you guys tomorrow, so I’m just writing random shit to make it look like we’re talking._

**Yusuke:** _I see._

**Akira** : _Say something to keep me occupied._

**Yusuke:** _That horse that Ryuji likes to post reminds me a lot of Chadusuke._

**Akira:** _Um… what?_

**Yusuke:** _It’s as though, symbolically, I am currently getting fucked in the ass by him._

**Akira:** _K_

**Ryuji:** _How’s Morgana holding up?_

**Akira:** _Not sure. I threw him out the school’s window for cumming on my calculus homework._

**Ryuji:** _At least he didn’t cum on your laptop after you made fun of him all night._

**Yusuke:** _That was a fun Saturday._

“They’re not really sure right now,” Akira said, pocketing his phone again. “Probably not, though.”

“Oh for the love of…” Ann groaned.

“Well, I think we can make do without them,” Haru said. “I already texted Futaba, she said that she can meet with us tonight. We can just fill Yusuke and Ryuji in later.”

_Oh my fucking-_

Akira pulled out his phone again.

**Akira:** _Yo, would you rather go to a Phantom Thieves meeting, or play Street Fighter with me after class is over?_

**Futaba:** _Why can’t we do both_

**Akira:** _Because I’m trying to get out of the meeting._

**Futaba:** _Why are you trying to get out of the meeting_

**Akira:** _I need an answer, woman._

**Futaba:** _Play Street Fighter._

**Akira:** _Atta girl. Go tell Haru that you can’t come to the meeting after all, make some shit up._

**Futaba:** _I can’t lie to Haru!_

**Akira:** _Um, yes you totally can?_

**Futaba:** _She’s way too sweet._

**Akira:** _Don’t be a pussy._

**Futaba:** _How about you tell her yourself, pussy?_

**Akira:** _It’ll look so stupid if I lie for you, dumbass._

**Futaba:** _Well I guess you gotta go to that meeting then, dipshit._

**Akira:** _reioxfgnc,selimfrfsroiesroivd90ewn_

**Futaba:** _So are you gonna do it?_

**Akira:** _Yes._

“Oof, yeah. Futaba just texted me. She said that she can’t make it either, actually. Said she needs some time alone. Personal stuff.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Makoto said. “We can’t have a meeting with three of us missing, especially not without the girl who knows how to analyze that entire floor. Let’s just plan on getting it done tomorrow, okay guys?”

“Oh! Ann, is that a new purse?” Haru exclaimed.

“Yep! Got it at the underground mall a few days ago. What do you guys think?”

“Well…”

And Akira sat there as they prattled on about stupid bullshit he was too horny to care about.

_Okay, grab Morgana, visit Takemi, play some Street Fighter, meeting. Grab Morgana, Takemi, Street Fighter, meeting. Morgana, Takemi, Street Fighter, meeting. Morgana, Takemi, Street Fighter, meeting. Fuck Makoto is so hot, FUCK she likes somebody else, FUCK who the fuck is it, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck._

“Kurusu-kun.”

Haru’s voice sliced through Akira’s hyperventilating trance.

“Ah! Uh, what’s up, Haru?”

“We haven’t gardened together in a while.”

Akira winced.

_Ah shit, I haven’t hung out with Haru in a minute._

“I would love to! Let’s, uh, how about we do it tomorrow?”

“I was thinking more today.”

He rubbed the back of his head.

“I mean, I’m kinda busy right now…”

“Doing what?”

Akira gulped and looked away.

“Like, homework and stuff.”

“If we don’t plant the new vegetables now, we won’t be able to have any for the next time we go to the Metaverse.”

“Well, I mean, can’t you plant them yourself?”

“There are a lot of vegetables, Akira. I can’t plant them all by myself.”

Akira shifted his legs, uneasy under the weight of Haru’s gaze.

“I… I mean…”

Haru kept looking at him.

“I guess… I guess I can spare a few minutes.”

“Great!” Haru clapped her hands and smiled. “See you on the roof in, oh, ten minutes?”

“I kinda need more time than tha-“

“Great! See you there!”

Haru exited the classroom with a hum in her throat and a bounce to her step. Makoto and Ann stared at her as she left. Makoto turned to Ann, a wry smile curling at the end of her lips.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “How did we not notice earlier?”

Ann returned Makoto’s smile with one of her own. “Yuuup.”

Akira cocked an eyebrow. “What? What are you talking about?”

Ann shook her head and looked out the window, muttering something about boys being stupid under her breath. Makoto smothered her mouth with her hand, trying hard not to let out a mischievous giggle.

“It’s… it’s nothing! Ah, I should, uh, I should go talk to Haru for a second! See you guys tomorrow!”

She rushed out with her hand still stifling her giggles.

Akira tapped Ann on the shoulder. “What was that about?”

“Mmm, nothing, nothing.” She rested her chin against her hand. “You sure like to follow Haru’s orders, don’t you?”

“Pff, no! She’s not the boss of me!”

“Then why did you agree to help her garden if you’re busy?”

“I, uh. I mean, she’s my friend, so like, I wanna help her out.”

“Oh yeah? Just a friend?”

“Shut up.”

Ann giggled loudly. “Whatever you say, Akira.” She stood up and swung her backpack around her shoulder. “I should get going. Don’t wanna get in the way of your little date tonight~!”

Akira released a loud guffaw from his stomach. “Yeah right. Me going out on a date.”

“Mmmm, you never know…”

“What was that?”

But Ann had already made her way to the door and stepped out. Whether or not she heard him was unimportant.

Akira looked out the window and sighed.

 _Guess I better clean up my mess_.

* * *

 

Morgana was waiting for Akira at the school’s courtyard, not far from where his backpack was defenestrated. As the cat came into view, Akira also noticed a big, steaming pile of shit resting on top of his backpack as he walked towards them.

“That,” said a fuming Morgana, “was for throwing me out the window.”

Akira stared wide-eyed at his backpack, and then quickly turned a hateful gaze to the cat.

“You shat on my shit!”

“You threw me out the window!”

“You came on my homework!”

“You threw me into your backpack and shook me!”

“You were talking shit about Makoto not liking me!”

“YOU are a pathetic loser who can’t get a girlfriend!”

“And YOU are too!”

Morgana pointed an accusatory paw at the boy.

“Do you know how many times I’ve had uber-hot chicks press me up against their tits? A lot! It feels good, Akira. But I guess you wouldn’t know the feeling, huh?”

Akira’s mouth closed shut. He knew that nothing he could say would change the fact that he’s gotten less action than a fucking cat.

Morgana gave the boy a smug look. “Heh, that’s right, cuck. You’ll never know what it’s like to have a nice pair of boobs rubbing up against your cheek. Or the feeling of a girl wrapping her arms around you so she can press you up against her chest. You’ll never know how soft it feels, how heavenly the scent is, how it makes your head spin, how it makes you…”

Morgana trailed off. He only just realized that he was drooling.

“I… I gotta use the bathroo-“

Akira grabbed the cat by the neck before he could finish his sentence. For what felt like the tenth time today, he rubbed his eyes in exasperation, and then turned to his friend.

“I’m sorry I threw you out the window.”

“I’m sorry I came on your homework.”

“And shat on my backpack.”

“We’re not even for that yet. I could have died.”

“That backpack almost cost me 6000 yen!”

“And I could have died!”

Akira sighed. “Yeah, you could have died. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t forgive you.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll make it up to you.”

Morgana chortled. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Wanna come with me to Takemi’s office?”

Morgana stared at him. “I… thought you said you were going alone?”

“I was. But you can come with me. Dr. Takemi hasn’t… hugged you yet, has she?”

“No… No she hasn’t.”

“Well, now’s your chance.”

Morgana thought for a moment.

“Give me a roll of fatty tuna sushi and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal!”

Man and cat shook hand and paw. Akira grabbed what remained of his once-pristine backpack and threw it into the trash.

“I gotta go garden with Haru,” Akira said as he let Morgana crawl up on his shoulder. “Then we can go to Takemi’s place. We gotta hustle though, we’re gonna have a meeting with the rest of the guys about figuring out how to deal with that creature we saw yesterday.”

“Alright.”

Akira made his way back into school, not even bothering to try to hide the cat, since he knew that most of the school’s population was already long home by now.

“Hey, Akira?”

“Yeah?”

“It took an extreme amount of effort to not jerk off while I was waiting outside.”

“I know.”

“An _EXTREME_ amount of effort.”

“I know.”

“Happy No Nut November.”

“Yeah.”

A bright smile formed on Akira’s lips as he pushed the door to the roof open.

“Happy No Nut November.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LEGEND NEVER DIES
> 
> I tried my hardest, my absolute HARDEST to get this thing out on the first day of you-know-what. You guys cannot even imagine the immense amount of disappointment in myself that I felt when I realized I had to put the release of this chapter out.
> 
> Now, you guys have probably noticed the name of this chapter: Chapter 4: Part 2. No, that's not a typo, I'm still not actually done with this stupid chapter yet. Personally, I do not feel like this chapter can actually be "complete" until I conclude the first full day of No Nut November. Once that happens, the story can finally start moving along in a nicer pace.
> 
> I know that I let a lot of you guys down for being so late. I am really sorry. So many of you guys leave such wonderful, great comments and reviews on my story. You might think I'm exaggerating, but I feel so wonderfully happy when I check my little story and see that somebody left a positive review, or even just gave my story a chance at all, for that matter.
> 
> I know that this thing is a slow, dawdling, way-too-long mess about masturbating and memes, but I really do care about this story. A lot, in fact. I spend so much time in my day thinking about where I should take this story next, what plot lines should I use, how the characters would react to certain situations, etc. Like I've said before, writing chapters is a lot of fun, but it takes the energy right out of me. I promise I will do better in the future when it comes to uploading in a timely manner! (And since my favorite pastime won't be available for an entire month, I'm gonna need something to keep me company anyway...)
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your feedback, your support, and your continued reading! For all you folks who left reviews, followed, or favorited, thank you so, so, so, so much! With every review I get, with every follower, I feel a great big rush in my brain, somebody out there actually likes my idiotic ideas!
> 
> In any case, I can't improve this story without feedback anyway. Like last time, it would be so helpful if you guys roasted my shit and gave me some constructive criticism if you have any. What did you think of this new chapter? Is there anything I can improve? Has the quality dropped? LET ME KNOW!
> 
> And like last time, I'm down to answer any questions about myself or my story, no matter how seemingly stupid they are. Ask away!
> 
> Godspeed, my brothers. Stay fast and stay true. If you keep No Nut November holy, it shall stay by you, and it shall defend you. Blacklist your favorite hentai site if you have to! It will be worth it!
> 
> Your immortal Metropolitan,  
> Kiril
> 
> EDIT: Lol, I just realized my fic passes the Bechdel test. Your wonderful Cardinal is shaping up to be a feminist icon!


	6. Chapter 4: Part 3: The Squeakquel

He observed the once-bare flower bed. Small mounds of upturned dirt and shrubbery dotted the black plain. It was weird to think that, in less than an hour, he and Haru were able to get all this work done. The girl had done most of the work, as usual, and obvious mistakes on Akira’s part were sternly rectified by his companion. Akira could appreciate and respect Haru’s commitment to her work, but he felt a small pang of fear every time he realized he made a mistake, knowing the girl would quickly scold him and show him how it was done properly.

“No, Akira, like _this_ ,” she said, grabbing his spade and refilling the messy hole he left in the dirt. “If you don’t give them enough space, their roots will tangle and it’ll be a big waste!”

“S-sorry! I’ll fix it.”

“No, here.” She inserted the spade into the boy’s hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. She guided him down to the earth slowly, gently pulling on his arm. The boy obeyed, allowing himself to descend along with the girl’s lead. The sharp end of the spade pierced the soft mound. The round edge of Akira’s left shoulder descended, making contact with the very top of the right of Haru’s chest. The fingers of her free hand pressed-up against Akira’s, reinforcing his grip on the spade-handle. She pushed his fingers, and the spade dipped into the mound, and Akira’s shoulder rubbed down from its place. The spade went deeper, deeper, until the very hilt was pushing against the earth. His shoulder stopped its grazing.

“Like this.”

Now with both of her hands wrapped around his, she lifted the spade, bringing a heaping pile of soil along with it. Akira’s arm raised up and brushed against a part of Haru’s shirt. She dumped the soil into a neat little mound, and then brought Akira’s hands and the spade back down into the hole she just made, smoothing out the walls, reshaping it into a rectangular form, patting down the loose bits. Up and down the spade went. Pat pat pat. Up and down, in and out.

“There,” she said. “That’s how you do it.”

“I gotcha,” Akira said. “I’ll do better next ti-“

“Don’t mention it.”

Haru suddenly released her hold of the boy and sprung up from her crouching position. She quickly turned her back to him and started putting away her tools. “That will be enough for now. Thank you very much, Akira.”

_Something’s not right,_ Akira thought. He looked toward Morgana, who was lounging lazily on the rim of the roof. Akira cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed his finger at the girl’s back. The cat, who looked as equally confused as Akira, simply shrugged his shoulders.

While nervously rubbing the back of his neck, Akira stepped over to the girl. Her tools were almost fully packed and organized, a remarkable feat of speed, given how many items Haru had carried over.

“Uh… Haru?”

“Yes?”

“Is there… something you want to tell me?”

Haru froze.

Akira blinked.

Haru resumed packing.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is everything alright with you? Sorry, but I just get the feeling that something is wrong.”

Haru kept packing, but she didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Nothing is wrong.”

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Akira stood behind Haru, watching her finish her packing. Before long, Haru zipped her backpack closed, swung it behind her back, and started walking to the exit, although her steps were very brisk.

Once she reached the handle of the door, Akira couldn’t take it any longer. He jogged over to her.

“Haru!”

The girl immediately spun around, only to be met with Akira’s face, who ended up stopping very close to her.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going. And maybe it’s nothing. But I’m trying to be a good leader, and I’m trying to be a good friend. Please, if I’ve done anything to offend you, I sincerely apologize.”

He brought his hand to the top of her arm and gripped it lightly. Haru met his gaze, but her slightly wide-eyed expression was all but unreadable.

“If there’s something you want to talk about, please, just tell me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Okay?”

Haru didn’t say anything, and her expression was unchanged. Try as he might, Akira couldn’t figure out what Haru was thinking at all, even after studying her face so intently. He never noticed, however, how red the tips of Haru’s ears were, or the light dusting of crimson on her cheekbones that revealed her barely-visible freckles. Akira wondered if it was due to the cold air, or some bubbling hostility that somehow manifested itself on her face. He prayed it was the former. The last thing he wanted was somebody he respected like Haru to hold a grudge against him.

“It’s nothing, Akira,” the girl said blankly. “Nothing at all. There is nothing you could do to offend me. I am unoffendable.”

“Oh.” Akira pursed his lips, and gave a weak smile. “Well, if you ever need somebody to talk to, you can depend on me. I’m here for you.”

A cold breeze blew in, which Akira noticed made her face even more red than it already was. Was she telling the truth about her not being angry at him, then? Her hand looped around her back and grasped the doorknob, awkwardly turning it behind her. “I need to go, I have to catch a ride.”

“Alright.” Akira let go of her. He could just barely feel the muscles on her arm twitch at his fingertips. He winced, realizing how awkward he was for touching her.

Haru opened the door and stepped out. Even with the door closed, he could hear Haru’s awkward footsteps down the stairs, descending in a pace that was uncharacteristically fast and rushed. Akira sighed, taking that as an obvious sign that she was trying to get away from him as soon as possible.

Morgana approached him. “Wow,” he said. “What was that all about?”

“I really hope I didn’t piss her off or something.”

“She was acting kind of weird last night, too.”

“Yeah. I hope everything is okay.”

The cat yawned. “Whatever, we can worry about that later. Take me to Takemi, take me to Takemi!”

“You know I’m just dropping by to say thank you, right?”

“Plenty of time! I’m gonna get up on that rack even if it kills me!”

“If other people could understand what you were saying, I bet you would be arrested for sexual harassment.”

“Whatever. Are you going, or what? We need to have enough time for that meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Akira grabbed his backpack. “Let’s go see sexy doctor lady.”

* * *

 

Sexy Doctor Lady was pissed.

“Just what the hell has gotten into you? Did you get into a fight or something?”

“No.”

“Then how were you knocked out cold? And in the middle of the night too?!”

“I ‘dunno.”

“You could have had a concussion! Look, I don’t know why you keep buying medicine and bandages from me, and I agreed to not ask about it as long as you did these clinical trials with me. But if you keep showing up to me like this, then I’m going to stop it!”

“Kay.”

“Don’t act so flippant!”

“Sorry.”

Takemi sighed. “Are you feeling okay, though?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. That’s good. My clinic is a place of comfort and health, Akira. You know that if you or somebody else needs medical attention, I’ll be here. But please, you need to be more careful in the future.”

“’Aight. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome.” The doctor picked her clipboard back up and began inspecting it, as she was doing before Akira’s entrance interrupted her. “Well, I don’t have any trials I need to run right now, and my quick check-up on you didn’t say anything was wrong, so maybe it’s best if you-“

“Have you met my cat?” Akira produced Morgana from seemingly out of nowhere and raised him up to Takemi’s face. “His name is Morgana.”

Takemi’s eyes widened and blinked rapidly in surprise. “Oh! Uh, no, you haven’t.”

“God, her rack is even better looking up-close!”

“Aww, he says hi!”

“Uhm, hello kitty.”

“’Sup.”

Takemi chuckled awkwardly. “Meow meow, heh heh.”

“Alright, enough chit-chat. Gimme gimme!”

“I think he wants you to hold him. He likes you already!”

“W-wait, Kurusu!”

But Akira already dumped the cat into the surprised doctor’s arms.

“Well, you have fun with him, I gotta use the bathroom!”

Before Takemi could say anything, Akira ran over to the bathroom and locked the door. He closed the toilet lid and sat on it. He took a deep, long breath.

“Oh my God she’s so fucking hot when she’s angryyyyy,” he moaned as he exhaled. He reached into his pants and adjusted his set. After splashing some cold water on his face and slapping his cheeks a few times, Akira stepped back into the clinic, only to see the doctor standing on a stool, injecting a syringe into her thigh. Morgana was unable to reach her and looked startled at Takemi’s reaction.

“Akira, I am allergic to cats!”

“Oh shit!” Morgana cried.

“Oh shit!” Akira said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t just stand there! Pick it up, pick it up!”

“I.. it?” Morgana muttered.

“Of course! Get over here, furball.” Akira scooped up the cat and let him rest on his shoulder. “I honest-to-God didn’t know, Dr. Takemi!” He gave a low bow.

“It’s fine,” Takemi said, descending from the stool. “Just be more careful.”

“I mean, is there anything I can do?”

“Just go home, Akira. I think you’ve caused enough trouble as it is. And don’t bring that thing here again.”

“Thing?” Morgana cried.

“R-right. Sorry.” Akira bowed again at Takemi, strafed backwards towards the door, gave another, even lower bow, and departed.

“Well, you little creep, did you get what you wanted?” Akira asked Morgana as soon as the door was closed.

“She… called me ‘it’! She called me a thing!”

“Well what did you expect, Morgana? You could have killed her!”

“I didn’t know that…”

“And all for a pair of boobs too.”

“I didn’t even get to feel them. She dropped me before I could do anything.”

The boy started to make his way back to LeBlanc. He took out his phone and shot Futaba a quick message to come over.

“That should teach you to stop being creepy around girls. Just because they can’t understand you, doesn’t mean you aren’t disrespecting them, you jackass.”

“Says the guy that can’t go five minutes without masturbating.”

“That’s different and you know it.”

“Whatever.”

The two didn’t say much else for the majority of the walk to the café.

“She called me an ‘it’…” Morgana eventually mumbled.

Akira looked at him wide-eyed. “Did that _actually_ offend you?”

Morgana opened his mouth, but then looked away.

“No.”

“Ok.”

Akira pushed the door of the café open, the familiar bell giving its high-pitched ring. Sojiro was behind the counter, as usual, cleaning the countertop and putting away a few dishes. To Akira’s surprise, Yusuke, the only customer at the moment, was sitting in one of the booths, a cup of coffee and an opened book resting on the table.

“Hey, Boss!” Akira greeted. Sojiro gave his usual grunt of salutation, not even bothering to look up from what he was doing. Akira walked over to Yusuke’s booth. “Hey, Yusuke.”

“Hello, Akira.” Yusuke also seemed to be enraptured in what he was doing. The book lay flat on its spine, and the artist’s nose was buried in its text.

“Hey, Yusuke,” Morgana said, still perched on Akira’s shoulder. He deftly jumped on the ground and made for the stairs. “I’m gonna take a nap for a few minutes.”

“Okay, see you,” Akira called to the cat as he disappeared upstairs. He turned to Yusuke. “You’re pretty early, you know. I wasn’t planning on holding the meeting until around 6.”

“I wanted to be here until then,” Yusuke mumbled, still reading.

“Alrighty.” Akira looked around and shifted his weight before returning his attention to him. “So, uh, how’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Silence.

“You know, Futaba is coming over in a few minutes. You wanna head upstairs with us and play some video games?”

“No thank you.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“So… what’re ya reading?”

“A novel.”

“Alright. What novel?”

Yusuke sighed and lifted the book from the table, just barely giving Akira a chance to read the title. He cocked his head to the side, trying to align the kanji to make it more legible.

**THE TEMPLE OF THE GOLDEN PAVILION**

**BY**

**YUKIO MISHIMA**

“The fuck, dude!?” Akira whispered sharply. He quickly slammed the book flat on the table, jerking his head around to make sure nobody saw what Yusuke was reading.

Yusuke gave Akira an irritated look. “And what, pray tell, is the matter with you?”

“You can’t be reading that kind of shit here!” Akira whispered. “People are going to think you’re a school shooter or something!”

“I’ll have you know,” Yusuke whispered back, “that Mishima is my all-time favorite author, and his disturbed, irredeemable characters mixed with his avant-garde prose provide a reading experience unlike any other!”

“He tried to turn Japan into a fascist dictatorship.”

“WELL MAYBE I WANT JAPAN TO BECOME A FASCIST DICTATORSHIP!” Yusuke roared as he stood up and slammed the table with his fist.

“Hey!” Sojiro yelled from behind the counter. “Keep it down, you brats! You’re going to scare away all of the customers.”

“Sorry boss…” the two boys mumbled. Yusuke visibly deflated and closed the book shut.

Akira sat in the booth across from Yusuke. “So, would you like to tell me what’s wrong, or are you going to keep yelling stupid shit?”

Yusuke rubbed his forehead and sighed. “It’s Ayoto.”

“You mean that one chick you wanted to bone?”

“Yes.”

“The one that’s apparently super-duper thick?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. What about her? Did she reject you?”

“No. She asked me out.”

“Hot damn! You lucky bastard!” Akira proudly patted the boy’s shoulder.

“No, Akira. I’m not lucky. I’m not lucky at all.”

“What do you mean? That’s great news, dude.”

Yusuke slammed his forehead against the table and moaned. “Chadusukeeeeee…”

“Alright, that’s the third time you said this guy’s name. Are you going to tell me who he is?”

“He used to bully me in middle school. Now he just transferred to my school and he’s already ruined my entire life.”

Akira crossed his arms. “What do you mean?”

“I caught him and Ayoto having sex in the bathroom.”

Akira leaned forward, his eyes full of shock. “Are you serious? The motherfucker literally just transferred and he’s already slaying?”

“Amongst other things.”

“Daaaamn. I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that. But there’s other fish in the sea. You’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but Akira.” Yusuke looked up, his watery eyes locking with Akira’s. “She _asked me out_ and then made love with the person whom I despise the most!”

“I mean, she kinda sounds like a ho.”

“She’s not a ho! She’s the most wonderful, most beautiful girl I have ever met!”

“Is that your brain or your dick talking?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Yusuke moaned. He looked over to one of the café walls, where a beautiful picture of a woman cradling a baby hung. “I just wanted to be with the _Sayuri_ right now. The _Sayuri_ , and somebody who understands my pain and frustrations.” He unenthusiastically lifted his book, and then pathetically tossed it back on the table.

The bell on the café door rang again. Akira turned his head and saw Futaba, cradling a fight stick in one arm.

“Hey, dad!” The girl nodded to Sojiro. “Akira and I are gonna play some Third Strike upstairs!”

“I have no idea what that even means,” Sojiro mumbled. “Just try to keep it down.”

“Sure! You ready to get your shit pushed in again, Aki-chan?”

“I swear to God you little twerp, if you call me that again-“

“Nuh-uh. Nope,” she interrupted him. “I reserve the right to call you whatever demeaning names I want until you beat me in a single match, and so far, we’re at 0-48.”

Akira grumbled in response and looked away from her.

As Futaba made her way toward the stairs, she only just noticed Yusuke sitting there, his upper body lying prostrate against the table, his forehead resting against one of his forearms, hiding his face.

“Oh! Yusuke, I didn’t know you were here.”

The boy weakly raised his hand, gave a pathetic wave, and then plopped it back down on the table, not even bothering to look up.

She turned to Akira and gave a confused look. “Erm, is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s fine.”

She nudged his shoulder. “Hey, Inari, you’re not sick, are you?”

Yusuke moaned a negative into his arm.

“You should go home.”

Yusuke didn’t say anything.

“Yusuke? Come on, look at me.”

Yusuke shook his head, further burying his face in his arms.

The girl’s face curled up in anger. “Hey, I don’t wanna get sick if you’re contagious! Get out of here, you dumbass!” Yusuke didn’t respond, but pushed himself further into the corner of the booth, safe from Futaba’s grasp. “Fine, do whatever you want. Stupid Inari. Come on, Akira, let’s go upstairs already.”

She gave a big huff and trudged up the stairs.

“Yikes,” Akira said. “You pissed her off, man.”

“Who cares?” Yusuke mumbled into his arm.

“You didn’t even look at her!”

“If I look at her, I’ll get aroused.”

“That… you are fucked up.”

“Leave me be.”

Akira shook his head and joined Futaba in his room.

* * *

 

Akira fondly remembered the first time he and Futaba ended up bonding. A month before the Phantom Thieves even encountered Ali Baba, Akira found an old PlayStation 2, a fight stick, and an almost-perfect copy of Street Fighter III: Third Strike at a rummage sale he just so happened to pass by. A long-time fighting game lover, it didn’t take long for him to snatch the ridiculously good deal as quickly as he could.

Soon after rescuing Futaba, the Phantom Thieves held a meeting in Akira’s room. Before anyone could even have an opportunity to speak, Futaba noticed the game cover on Akira’s desk and excitedly asked where he got it and if she could play it with him _right this instant_. From then on, the two spent hours every week in the Leblanc attic doing nothing but playing the old fighting game. Sometimes other friends would join, but it was always Akira and Futaba who devoted so much of their time to the game. This shared hobby, plus Futaba’s designation of the boy as her ‘key item’ and frequent trips to the Metaverse, allowed a strong, almost familial bond to form between the two. Akira was an only child, but he _loved_ the idea of having a younger sister, and Futaba proved to be the perfect surrogate. Akira was uncharacteristically protective of her, much to the girl’s slight annoyance and admiration.

And, as his surrogate sister, Akira felt that he could say things to her that he couldn’t say to anybody else. Which was why, when Futaba beat him for the third time that day, he directed a slew of vulgar words and painful insults in her direction.

“GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKING,” Akira screamed, “PIECE OF SHIT STUPID IDIOT BITCH!”

Futaba leaned back in her chair, grinning at her handiwork and Akira’s incoherent sentences of anger, basking in his frustration. “0-51, Aki-chan,” she said. “I’ve never met anybody _this_ devoted to a fighting game with such a low potential for improvement. Pretty impressive, honestly.”

“SHUT UP!” Akira yelled. “NEW GAME, NEW GAME!”

She scoffed and hit the ‘rematch’ option.

The two didn’t say much, focusing on the game at hand. No matter how angry Akira got, his frustration was always replaced with determination as soon as a new game started. After starting their 52nd match, however, Futaba spoke up for the first time that day during a fight.

“What’s with Yusuke?”

“I dunno,” Akira said, eyes glued to the screen.

“He seemed really out of it today.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you…” She trailed off. Akira wasn’t sure if it was because she was trying to find out what to say, or was distracted by the game. “Do you have any idea why?”

“I mean, it probably has something to do wi- GOD DAMN IT!” he screamed, the first round of the match falling to Futaba’s favor. “THAT WAS THE CHEAPEST SHIT!”

“The move ain’t cheap just because you don’t know how to counter it!” Futaba laughed. “You just have no tactical skills whatsoever.”

“PISS OFF!” he yelled.

Round 2 began.

“What were you saying?” Futaba asked, after a few seconds.

“Huh?”

“Before the match ended, you were saying something.”

“Oh. I forget.”

They didn’t say anything for a while.

“I think it had something to do with Yusuke,” she said.

“What?”

“What you were saying before you got cut-off. I think you were talking about Yusuke.”

“Oh. Oh! Uh, yeah. I mean, you know how Yusuke gets. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“That’s not what you were saying, though.”

“Huh?”

“You said, ‘It probably has something to do with-,’ and then you got cut-off.”

“Oh. Yeah, I mean, I spoke with him a little bit before you came to th- FUCK!” The second round went to Futaba, giving her the entire match. “FOR FUCK’S SAKE, EVERY SINGLE TIME I TRY TO GET OUT OF THAT MIX-UP, YOU-“

“Wanna rematch?” Futaba quickly cut-in.

“Oh! Uh, sure.”

Futaba immediately hit the ‘rematch’ button and the game resumed.

“So you spoke to Yusuke.”

“Yeah. He’s depressed.”

Futaba didn’t have a response to that for a few seconds.

“Yusuke’s depressed?”

“Seems like it.”

“Does he… _have_ depression?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he, like, taking any medication, or seeing anyone?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know?”

“Nah.”

“How could you not know?”

“Why would I know?”

“Isn’t Yusuke one of your best friends?”

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t even know if he’s depressed!”

“So?”

“How can you call yourself his friend if you don’t even know something that important!”

“Well shit, Futaba,” Akira mumbled, the vast majority of his attention still being devoted to the fight. “He’s your friend too. If you’re so worried about him, how come you didn’t know he might have depression until I just told you?”

Futaba didn’t say anything, but Akira noticed that she left her character wide open. Not passing up this rare opportunity, and evoking his several months’ worth of experience, he managed to destroy the rest of her health with a surprisingly well-executed combo, giving the first round to him.

“YES!” Akira pumped the air with his fist, his face radiating happiness. “FUCK. YES! HOOOOooooo baby! That’s the first time I got a round off you in over a month!”

“I just wasn’t paying attention…” the girl mumbled.

“Naaaaaaaaahhhh, nah nah nah nah,” Akira said. “Nah, you just didn’t see me run up on you like that. Damn, I ran UP on you with that! C’mon, c’mon! Next round, next round!”

Futaba was silent as the second round started. Akira gave animated interjections throughout. A high-pitched ‘oof!’ whenever the girl caught him in a corner, or an excited ‘yeah!” when he managed to get the upper hand. But, despite his confidence, the round still comfortably went to the silent Futaba, causing Akira to smack his fight stick with his fist.

“NO! NO! I’m not letting you take this away from me goddamnit! I’m gonna win, I’m gonna win!”

The third round started, but this time Futaba spoke up almost immediately.

“What’s he depressed about?”

Akira didn’t say anything, his mind completely into the game.

“Akira, what is he depressed about?”

Hearing his name pulled him back to reality, but only slightly. “Huh? Oh, well, some guy who used to bully him got transferred to his school.”

“Did he get into a fight with him or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Akira said. He chuckled as he remembered what Yusuke told him. “Oh, yeah, apparently this guy just swooped-in and Yusuke caught him fucking that girl he has a crush on.”

The match continued for a while in silence. Akira found a few openings and managed to chip away at Futaba’s health.

Futaba muttered something, but Akira couldn’t make it out.

“What’d you say?”

She swallowed, and it was so loud that Akira could hear it clearly. Odd, since he didn’t notice her eating or drinking anything.

“I said, Yusuke has a crush on a girl?”

“Uh huh. Some chick at his school.”

It was easy for Akira to break Futaba’s block. He threw her and got a solid hadouken on her.

“What’s her name?” Akira could barely hear her voice. It was so obvious to him that she was scared of losing her first match to him. This gave the boy a renewed sense of confidence. He smirked, and aggressively attacked her, utilizing the riskiest combos he knew.

“I don’t know her,” he answered. “All I know is that her name is Ayoyo or something, and apparently she’s thick as FUCK.”

Futaba didn’t say anything. Akira’s palms began to sweat as the timer counted down, and his opponent’s health gradually made its way down.

“Yeah, I don’t think Yusuke’s ever had a crush on a girl like that before,” he continued, still focusing on the screen. “At least, he hasn’t spoken to me about a girl like that before. But, like, he must _really_ like her if that got him this upset.”

Akira was surprised: it was extremely rare for him to get Futaba’s health this low while he was barely hurt at all. And during the third match of a round too! Usually, whenever this happened, the girl had some sneaky maneuver up her sleeve, only letting Akira get her down this low just to humiliate him at the last minute. But this was the closest he has ever come to actually beating her, and Akira was absolutely adamant that there was _no way in hell_ he was going to let his arch-nemesis get the better of him now. Not wasting any time, the boy closed the gap between the two fighters, got his footsies in order, zoned out a little to make sure he had ample room away from any of her more obvious counter-attacks, and then went-in for the kill. Through sheer muscle memory, he activated his super-art, and to his utter, indescribable joy, saw the first frame of Ryu’s uppercut connect cleanly on Yun’s face.

“YES!” he screamed as the animation gloriously played out before his eyes. “YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!”

The match ended, the white-clad Shotokan proudly giving his victory pose.

Akira bounced up in happiness, celebrating his first win against the girl.

“AWWWWW YEAH! AWWWwwwww YEAH! FINALLY! FUCKING FINALLY! This calls for some celebration!” He snatched up his fight stick and hit the ‘return to title’ option. The game’s intro music came up.

“YEAH YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY! THAT THIRD STRIKE IS WHAT COUNTS!” Akira started chanting off-beat with the rap lyrics. “AND YOU CAN GET IT TOO, DON’T THINK THAT I CAN’T KNOCK YOU OUT!” As that was about as far as the boy’s skills in English went, he continued the rest of the song in an incoherent gibberish that only a Japanese person could make when trying to sing in a foreign language.

After decided that he celebrated and gloated enough, Akira plopped back down on his chair, and gave a satisfied sigh. “Wanna play again?” he offered to the girl.

“I want to go home.”

Futaba’s voice was barely a whisper. Akira ruffled his brow in concern.

“Uh, are you alright?”

“Yes.”

The girl stood-up, unplugged her fight stick, and made her way downstairs.

The boy groaned smacked his forehead for being such an asshole to her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Akira went too far with his gloating. Futaba was, after all, still dealing with a whole slew of emotional and personal problems that attributed to her shut-in nature. Why couldn’t he just take his victory with some honor, instead of gloating about it like a complete jerk?

_Fuck, first I pissed Haru off, and now Futaba_ , he thought to himself. _I gotta go apologize before she leaves_.

He rushed downstairs to the café. Futaba was still making her way out, but she quickly sped past Yusuke without even saying goodbye to him, or leaving him a playful insult as she often did with him. Yusuke, for his part, did not even raise his head to look at her, his dead-looking eyes staring a pathetic little drawing he was doodling on his notepad.

“Futaba, I’m sorry!” Akira called-out. “I didn’t mean to rub it in your face.”

She stopped at the door. For a few moments, she merely stood there, not saying anything, but she eventually turned to face Yusuke.

“You’re an idiot!” An unmistakable warble accentuated her outburst. Without even giving the startled artist a chance to say anything, she swung the door open and ran outside.

Akira could her the toilet flush, and saw Sojiro step out of the bathroom behind him.

“What’s all this noise?” he asked. He cocked an accusatory eyebrow at his ward. “You didn’t do anything to Futaba, did you?”

Akira sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I beat her at a game and started rubbing it in her face. I was being a jerk to her.”

Sojiro gave a surprised look. “Oh. Well…” He made his way back behind the counter. “I, uh, I guess you had better apologize to her.”

“Yeah,” Akira said dejectedly. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not, you’re not.” Sojiro shook his head. He gave the boy one of his rare, warm smiles, which caught Akira off-guard. “You two bicker almost exactly…” He trailed off. He turned his back to Akira and started rubbing his glasses. “Just give her some time to calm down. She’ll come through.”

“Yeah…” Despite being relieved that Sojiro wasn’t pissed at him, Akira still felt like total shit. He walked over to Yusuke, who went back to drawing in his little book.

“It’s almost 5:40, man,” Akira said. “Ryuji’s gonna be here soon. Let’s go upstairs, alright?”

“Alright…” the artist mumbled. He weakly closed his book, and joined Akira upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, bitches! I bet you didn't think I would update so soon, huh? This chapter was a fun one to write, but as you can probably tell, the real chapter is still unfinished. I think the next part will be the final one, and then we can move on to the next major phase of the story.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, liking, commenting, sharing, etc. Please, keep the feedback coming! Let me know what you think about this chapter and where you think the story is headed, and as always, I'm open to answer any questions you guys have. DM me! Also, I updated my bio a bit, in case anybody wants to read that shit.
> 
> Don't forget to go to confession!
> 
> Kiril

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it. What are your thoughts? Leave a review!
> 
> pls bully
> 
> -Kiril


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